Midsummers Night
by Chibi Ron Weasley
Summary: (IN PROGRESS) Harry is severely mistreated on Privet drive, and is rescued by none other than his best friend, Ron Weasley. Ron then slowly comes to realize he has developed more-than-friends feelings for him... Set in their 6th year. HP/RW slash.
1. Don't Let Them See You Cry

~*Midsummer's Night*~  
  
Chapter 1: Don't let them see you cry  
  
Author: Chibi Ron Weasley  
  
Rating: PG (for mild violence)  
  
Memorandum: Eeey. I do not own the Potter gang. So there. Sue me....hey, wait. On second thought, don't. I'm a poor-ass who dives on nickles in the hallway.  
  
This story focuses more on Ron and Harry's feelings and lives, rather than in my other story ButterMellow (since I got kicked off FF.net for how damn NC-17 that story was...*grumble*...), where the point was to get through all that junk and to the all out porn-fest as soon as possible. This is a much more tame (and sweet ) version of their relationship. It may take a while to progress...you know we always have to have our little R rated section...Be patient. This story is also a bit old...I typed it up out of an old journal I used to wirte in when I was bored during school. Please enjoy, and review for me! pretty please...^_^  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
~Don't let them see you cry~  
  
Ron lay awake in his bed, his hands resting comfortably on the palms of his hands. He stared at the ceiling dully with a detached air of disinterest. It had been the fifth time he'd woken up that night, for about the seventh day in a row.  
  
Ron sighed and rolled over again, tangling his blankets further around his form, and stared out his bedroom window. The velvety sky was already dotted with the first blue-grey hues of daybreak. That meant it was probably close to 6AM, he thought to himself. He pressed his hands against his face in an irritable manner, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, then turned his over to a small nightstand that sat next to his bed. Sitting next to his lamp was a small framed photo. Upon closer look, it was of three smiling Gryffindors, about the age of 15, all waving merrily. Ron smiled. The boy on the far left, with the brilliantly red hair, was infact himself, Ronald Weasley.  
  
Next to him proudly stood one of his best friends, a girl, Hermione Granger. Her bushy brown hair had been brushed into silky waves that gently swayed with the wind and shone with bright highlights of sunshine. She smiled a broad cheerful smile, waving with one hand, while the other was draped around the shoulders of an extremely handsome boy that was standing beside her.  
  
Harry Potter. Unruly locks of raven colored hair fell about his face in an untidy manner. It was sort of sticking up in places on his head as if he had tried to comb it with a toilet brush, and failed miserably. Nevertheless, he seemed as pleasant as ever, sporting a wide grin and a cheerful expression. His brilliant green eyes shone with pure happiness behind his round glasses. He was also waving merrily, and once and a while, a small breeze came along which ruffled his untidy bangs so the slight lightning bolt scar on his forehead became visible.  
  
Ron slid his head down his pillow to bring the picture into better focus through the opaque darkness, as he continued to stare at the framed moment of happiness.  
  
Harry and Hermione were beginning to laugh and carry on in the picture as a large gust of wind blew the glasses off Harry's face. Ron laughed quietly as he watched the photo Harry blush and quickly duck below the picture frame to retrieve his glasses, and then pop back up, grinning stupidly.  
  
"Stupid git..." Ron chuckled softly to himself, watching his best friend fumble with his glasses and slide them back on, then just smile carelessly and run a hand through his windswept hair, in another futile attempt to tame it. "Oh Harry, you're hopeless," grinned Ron. But he actually quite liked Harry's hair the way it was, always all wild and messy...and it was such a pretty color, giving him such character in contrast to those bright emerald eyes...  
  
Ron snorted and buried his face into his pillow. "Why am I staring at Harry like that? That's disgusting." He rolled over again, glowering at the lamp post as if it had been saying rude things to him. He had always been insanely jealous of Harry's looks, and about 50 other things, but to just stare at him like that...Ron shuddered.  
  
"Ah. I'm worried. That must be it," he assured himself, "Harry hasn't written me back yet..."  
  
And indeed Harry hadn't. His letters had just stopped coming about halfway through the summer. At first, Ron had ignored it. Harry must have been busy with chores, or something that his stupid uncle was making him do. And he didn't want to sound desperate by constantly sending Harry an owl to ask what was up (if 3 owls a day didn't seem desperate enough...).  
  
But as the weeks carried on, he began to worry a little more, and every morning he would rush downstairs to see if Harry had sent him anything. But it always ended the same way...a minisrty letter for his dad...a letter for his mum...an occasional howler for Fred or George, (Lately they had been stealing their mother's underwear and randomly sending them out by owl post for the fun of it...) but never anything from Harry. And Ron would trudge back to his room and lay down on his bed, and wonder what in the world was happening.  
  
He lifted his head from the pillow once more to stare at Harry's smiling picture, once more giving him that feeling of butterflies in his stomach that he didn't quite understand...  
  
"Harry, please write me back..."  
  
*****  
  
Harry Potter awoke slowly, turning over in the tattered sheets of his bed. The house shook as the sound of an elephant stampede sounded from the hallway outside his bedroom, and Harry guessed that Dudley must have caught the scent of breakfast being cooked and had immediately rushed downstairs.  
  
Blinking, he reached over to his dresser for his glasses and put them on, ans slowly got up to stretch, walking over to his window.  
  
It was a cool summer morning on Privet drive, not like Harry was able to enjoy the beautiful weather, but it was nice out nonetheless. Everything on the street appeared as it always had; normal. Nothing out of the ordinary, especially no owls during daylight.  
  
Harry sighed, his hopes shot down for the fourth week in a row. Why wasn't Ron replying to any of his letters? Harry didn't want to seen pushy, but he had expected Ron to invite him over to the Burrow for part of the summer, and if he didn't get out of this Dursley hellhole soon, he would probably go insane. He hadn't planned on being here for the summer, but Sirius, his godfather, was still conviniantly on the run from the Ministry of Magic, and wasn't able to take him in. So the Dursleys had been landed with the burdened of keeping him again for yet another miserable summer. Harry stopped scanning the skies for any sign of owls, and rested his head upon his folded arms on the window sill. Why wasn't Ron writing back...  
  
"Petunia!!" barked Uncle Vernon's voice from downstairs. Harry detected the faint smell of burnt toast reach his room.  
  
"Mmm. Breakfast must be ready." He rose from his seat next the window and opened his bedroom door. Reluctantly, he slowly decended the staircase and made his way to the kitchen. Uncle Vernon was reading the morning paper at the breakfast table, an annoyed look on his face. Harry assumed that there was a frown underneath his large mustache.  
  
Aunt Petunia was wafting a cloud of smoke out the window, and Dudley was standing next to her with burnt fingers, staring unhappily at five slices of now charred bread stuffed into the two slot toaster. He must have been unsatisfied with the quantity of his breakfast, and tried to make more. Wow, thought Harry, that was quite impressive, trying to do it himself, although Harry highly doubted Dudley's brain was ready for the high intensity stimulation of working the buttons on a toaster.  
  
Dudley turned his piggy face toward Harry and scowled. Harry stared boredly back at him as he took his seat at the table. Nobody else seemed to notice he had entered the room at all.  
  
"Oh my poor little Duddy-kins..." Aunt Petunia fussed as she ran cool water over Dudley's fat fingers, "If you wanted more, you should have just asked mommy!" She hastily pulled the mangled toast from the toaster and, careful as to not get as much as a speck of it on her pristine floor, carried it across the kitchen and deposited it in the trash. Dudley skulked over and flopped into his seat, shaking the table, causing a bit of Harry's orange juice to slosh over the rim of his glass onto his lap. Harry stared at it, and then up to his plate, which presented him with three delightfully burnt, unbuttered pieces of toast. He noticed Dudley was eyeing them gluttonously. He sat there and whimpered, flashing his eyes to his own empty plate, and then back to Harry's toast, in a desperate attempt to hint to his mother that he still wanted more.  
  
Harry rolled his eyes. Of course Aunt Petunia picked up ont the obvious hints her precious 'Duddy-kins' was giving.  
  
"Don't worry Duddy, I'll make you some more toast."  
  
Unfortunately, when she opened the fridge, she pulled out an empty bread bag. Upon seeing it, Dudley's face twisted into the expression resembling a child whos dog has just been run over by an oil tanker.  
  
Petunia rushed over to comfort her son. "Don't worry, Duddy," she said, desperately trying to surpress the rising tantrum, "Look, see? We still have some more for schnookums."  
  
Harry blinked, and two of his toast pieces were snatched away from his plate, and set infront of his gloating cousin. Those pieces were all burned, obviously meant for Harry, Petunia observed, so she had to upgrade them for Dudley.  
  
"There we go, Dudley." She heaped on a blob of butter, and spread it over the toast generously. Dudley still seemed unsatisfies, even though he had just stolen more than half of Harry's breakfast.  
  
"I want jam...and peanut butter and syrup on it!" he demanded. Harry watched his aunt flounce across the kitchen, collecting everything on the mere whim of Dudley.  
  
"Here we go, just for my Dudley." Dudley's face lit up with glee as he watched the jam and syrup gobs pile on top of his breakfast.  
  
Uncle Vernon set aside his paper to take a sip of coffee. "Healthy appetite, our Dudley," he said approvingly as Dudley was having a pig-out frenzy, "A growing boy needs a nice big breakfast every morning."  
  
Harry rolled his eyes again, turning away from his piggy cousin in disgust, and began to nibble on the corner of his own dry piece of toast. Dudley sure was growing alright, although more horizontally than vertically. Harry often amused himself by thinking about the fact that he could probably pass Dudley off as a small beluga whale in a blonde wig. He pictured Dudley swimming around an aquarium somewhere and held back a snigger.  
  
After he had finished his poor excuse for a breakfast, Harry slunk back into his room and quietly shut the door. He sat down on his bed, staring at the calendar on his wall with which he liked to mark off the days until his return to Hogwarts. There was still about a month left. He was going to have to wait that long...and was he going to have to wait that long to see his friends? Harry had begun to feel a mass of sadness fighting with the mass of anger in the pit of his stomach. Were his friends trying to ignore him? No, they wouldn't do that...would they? Harry flopped down on the bed feeling unsure of himself. He wanted to get their attention so badly...Then he remembered his emergency wizarding kit Hermione had gotten him one year ( you can never be too safe in the wizarding world, you know! ) which was hidden under one of the loose floor boards in his room. He slid off his bed into a kneeling position on the floor, and lifted the board, sorting through his many spellbooks until he found his kit.  
  
He distinctly remembered something in the handbook about attracting attention to yourself for help or something. If he couldn't use magic to contact his friends, then he would use this.  
  
"Hmm...healing tape...Anti-vomit pills...aha!" he muttered to himself as he spotted the small purple cylinders. They had bright green labels reading 'Use to attract attention'. Harry wondered, as he held the small device in his hand, how to attract the attention of the people you wanted to? Shrugging, he found a pull string on the bottom.  
  
"Ok...sure hope this works--" He pulled the string. And waited. Nothing was happening...what exactly was this thing supposed to do? He brought it in close to stare into the top of it, and then--KABOOM.  
  
With a whiz of sparks, it exploded with a loud whistling sound. Harry dropped it in shock, suddenly feeling very stupid for not consulting the manuel before. It suddenly began to emit a thick cloud of smoke and shot into the air like a rocket, clear through the roof, and exploded into a giant sparking violet firework.  
  
Harry stood, dumbstruck, staring at the new gaping hole in his ceiling as the sound of many pairs of feet came thumping up the stairs and down the hallway. Oh God...Obviously the Dursleys heard. Who was he kidding? Probably the whole street heard...He sure had attracted attention to himself, but not quite the way he had wanted. The purple sparkling blob stayed stationary in the air. Harry cursed his stupidity; it was the equivalent of a muggle flare used in emergencies, only more powerful.  
  
His door flew open and Uncle Vernon thundered in looking harassed, followed closely by Aunt Petunia and Dudley. Dudley still had bits of toast and syrup dripping down his chin.  
  
"What the bloody hell are you doing in here boy!?--" he suddenly cut his tirade short as his angry little eyes moved from the petrified Harry to the hole in the ceiling, to the brilliant purple firework sparkling up in the sky, and his face contorted into something past anger.  
  
All Harry could do was stare, his words failing him as he stood rooted to the spot. Uncle Vernon stomped over to him, already shaking with fury, he struck Harry hard with the palm of his hand, sending him crashing to the floor.  
  
"I...I'm sorry..." was all Harry could get out of his constricted throat at the moment.  
  
Uncle Vernon huffed angrily above him. He looked as if he wanted to scream at Harry but was beyond words. Finally, he seemed to have found his voice. "WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO!!?" he boomed, and Harry knew what was coming. Before he could react, his glasses were slapped off his face as his uncle continued to physically and verbally abuse him. "What have I told you about using those...those bloody spells inside this house!?"  
  
"I wasn't casting spells, I was--" Harry choked out a gasp of pain as he recieved a swift kick to his side, and fell heavily on the floor.  
  
"Do I look stupid, boy!?" Vernon thundered, his large face purpling further, and his foot connected with Harry's stomach. "Do you think I don't know something UNNATURAL when I see it!?" Harry saw stars as a fist was slammed into his face. He winced, covering his face, feeling a trickle of blood run out of his nose. Uncle Vernon didn't let up on his barrage of kicks and continued to buffet Harry's now bruised body. Dudley was laughing with sheer amusement at his cousin's torture.  
  
Harry continue to endure it, trying desperately to shield himself from the painful blows. He wouldn't give in...and he wouldn't let them see him cry.  
  
Uncle Vernon kicked him hard in the side, causing him to roll over, and cast a look of disgust down upon his nephews battered form. "That's what you get, you little freak!" he bellowed. Harry winced, expecting another slap or kick. "Your aunt and I allow you to live under our roof, even with your abnormality, and you go about trashing our home! Don't you even think for a second that this will be the end of this!!" Here he pointed a menacing finger at Harry, "You're going to fix this mess YOURSELF!!" And with that, they left, slamming the door, and leaving Harry bruised and battered, lying in a puddle of his own misery.  
  
He lay completely silent for a couple of seconds, breathing eratically, his ear pressed against the floor boards. The pound of footsteps grew softer, moving away from him. They were gone.  
  
Painstakingly, Harry dragged his body across the floor to lock his door. Grabbing the edge of his nightstand, he tried to raise himself up, and let out a whimper as a sharp pain shot through his side and he slid back down and lay motionless. He picked up a framed photo off the floor, one that his uncle had carelessly knocked over on his rampage, and held it close.  
  
The three Gryffindors within the frame cast a sympathetic glance to him, and as Harry tried to blink back his tears, he noticed the boy with the flaming red hair in the picture. His eyes reflected the sympathy and understanding that he felt for harry, and even though Harry couldn't hear what he was saying, he was still able to tell. "It's ok, Harry. Don't let them see you cry..."  
  
"Thanks, Ron..." Harry whispered. He hugged the picture close to him, and eventually fell asleep where he was on the floor.  
  
***** 


	2. I'm Not Afraid of You

~*Midsummer's Night*~  
  
Chapter 2: I'm not afraid of you   
  
Author: Chibi Ron Weasley  
  
Rating: R (for violence and language)   
  
Memorandum: I love you people!! Thank you for reviewing me!! Please continue to review so i can post more.  
  
I dont own Harry Potter, damn it, or any of the characters. So whatever I'm doing here just comes out of my sick little mind.  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
~I'm not afraid of you~  
  
The next day Harry was roused in a rather rude fashion, and dragged out of his room. Still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he groggily stood in the kitchen facing his uncle in the clothes he had fallen asleep in the previous day.  
  
"Here," Vernon belched, shoving a hammer and a box of nails into Harry's hands. He blankly stared at Uncle Vernon as if he was supposed to magically know what to do with them.  
  
"Don't just stand here staring, boy, get to work!" he growled at Harry, "You're fixing that hole in the room now, by yourself!"  
  
Harry looked out the window. It had been pouring since five that morning, and obviously it still was, and rather hard at that. "Urm...but it's raining--"  
  
"I don't care!" Uncle Vernon spat back, "The neighbors saw that purple...whatever it was yesterday, and I had to make up an excuse for it! I want that roof fixed NOW, before the whole street knows it came from our house!"   
  
The expression he had on his face told Harry that beginning an argument would be futile, so he mutely turned and walked out the door. Dudley was smirking at him from the top of the stairs, and Harry knew he would only gloat more if he looked upset as he walked out. So he retained his static expression, not even acknowledging Dudley with more than a glance. The door shut behind him, clicking as the lock was turned.   
  
"Gee...isn't this just PEACHY," Harry mumbled. he was already thoroughly soaked even though he had only been outside for a couple seconds, and he was still sore and aching from yesterdays beating.  
  
He grabbed the ladder from under the bushes, propped it against the house, and proceeded to climb to the roof. There was already a neat little pile of shingles and tile-like substance to hastily patch the hole. He guessed it didn't matter how well it was patched, just as long as it looked ok from the outside. It was his room, after all.  
  
He pounded away noisily, accidentally hitting his finger more than once. It was very hard to see with the water and his wet hair running down over his glasses, and he couldn't take them off, because it would be just as hard to see without them. He sighed in frustration. Hermione had fixed this problem for him during one rainy quidditch match with one of her charms, but Harry wouldn't be able to use that now...he couldn't do magic away from Hogwarts, and Hermione wasn't here. This thought only depressed him further, as it freshly reminded him of his new found isolation.  
  
Sighing again, he stared hopelessly up at the sky. "Stupid rain..."  
  
As he was about to get back to his work he spotted a small speck in the sky. He squinted at it intensely. It was moving closer, and when it had gotten close enough, Harry was able to make out the outline of an old owl...and it had something in its claws! Harry dropped what he was doing. Judging from how the owl was struggling against the wind and rain, it was Errol.   
  
It must be something from Ron, Harry thought excitedly. Just as Errol neared the house, he suddenly fell sharply from view. Startled, Harry crawled over to the edge of the roof and peered over the edge.  
  
Errol had been struck down and caught in a butterfly net, struggling and hooting angrily. The one holding the net was none other than Dudley. Harry felt a white hot anger rise in the pit of his stomach, but smartly held his tongue. Dudley giggled brainlessly as he untangled the frantic owl's leg from the net. The poor creature dropped out of the net and fell out onto the pavement with a dull thud, dropping the letter he had in his claws. Dudley quickly grabbed this before Errol could reclaim it, and rushed into the house as fast as his fat legs could carry him.  
  
Errol fluttered his wings aggitatedly, and perched himself up in a tree. Harry slipped down, unnoticed, off the roof and through the door that Dudley hadn't bothered to lock. What in the WORLD was that oaf doing...stealing HIS letter!?  
  
Harry stalked noiselessly behind his bumbling cousin, following him down the hallway. Dudley rounded into his bedroom, and Harry stayed behind outside the door, hidden in the shadows behind a shelf. He heard Dudley giggle stupidly again, then the creak of some sort of hinge, a clunk of something shutting, and Dudley ran out of his room and absentmindedly down the hall, empty handed.  
  
Figuring the moron had disgarded the letter in his room, Harry stepped out when the coast was clear and sneaked into the room. His eyes searched over the mess briskly, and fell upon a medium sized trunk in the corner that was void of a lock. He knealt down and opened it quietly, almost sure that it was where Dudley had put the letter.  
  
Sure enough, there it was...lying on top of about fifty other letters addressed to Harry Potter. Harry stood clutching the lid of the trunk open, staring in a mix of astonishment and fury. He reached down, flipping through the letters. Most of them were from Ron, some were from Hermione, and the others-this is what made harry absolutely furious-were letters that he had written to his friends. Letters he had thought reached their destinations safely.   
  
Harry grabbed the handfuls of letters and parcels, almost crumpling some in his rage. His friends hadn't forgotten to write to him...all their letters had been unjustly intercepted! This was too much...ok, so they treated him like shit, abused the hell out of him...but getting involved in his personal life...  
  
"What are YOU doing in MY room!?"  
  
Harry's vengeful thoughts were interrupted by a very familiar fat voice. He snapped his head around to see Dudley in the doorway. "Shit."  
  
Harry let his mail drop back down into the box, only enough time to grab the most recent letter from Ron, and hoisted himself up onto Dudley's window sill. He grabbed the edge of the roof outside, and swung back up onto the roof of the house. Dashing back over to the hole he had been repairing, he grabbed a large slab of tile and held it over his head as to shield himself from the downpour, and hastily unfolded Ron's letter.  
  
"Dear Harry,  
I'm starting to get really worried. Why aren't you answering my letters? You don't hate me now or anything, do you? Because I've invited you to stay with my family about 5 times by now...PLEASE answer me this time, Harry.  
  
~Ron  
  
Harry glanced back up to where Errol was watching him expectantly from the tree, and turned over Ron's letter, whipped a quill out of his pocket, and began scribbling away as fast as he could.  
  
"Dear Ron, I'm Sorry --"  
  
Loud thumps sounded behind Harry, and a split second later he found himself crushed against the shingles under an enormous weight. He strained to turn his head around. It was Dudley. How he managed to get onto the roof, Harry could only guess.  
  
"Give me back that letter!" He squawked, reaching out a stubby arm.  
  
Harry extended both letters out of reach. "It's MY letter!" He snarled, "How DARE you take my things!!You Goddamn--" Harry was speaking in tongues even he didn't know he was capable of, and every obscene thing that entered his mind came pouring out of his mouth.  
  
Dudley's eyes widened and he stood up, looking taken aback. "I'm a F-what sucking what??!" He blinked in a serried fashion waiting for his brain to catch up with him. Judging from the way Harry had said it, it must not have been a good thing, he figured, so he shoved Harry hard.  
  
Harry's rage subsided enough to keep him from plummeting over the edge. He grasped onto a turned up shingle and glared up at Dudley. He had a bemused look on his pudgey face. Harry's eyes widened as he pulled a letter from his pocket, one that distinctly had Harry's handwriting on it.  
  
"Stupid Harry, what have you got thats so important to write about anyway?" He unfolded the letter and read aloud, " Dear Ron, why haven't you answered me yet? I really miss you, you know. I haven't seen you all summer." Dudley grinned. "Gee, sounds like you want to marry him or something? Eww! Harry's gay--"  
  
That was the last straw. He had been through a lot in the past few days, but this seemed to snap the last thread of his temper. All Harry could see was red. Shouting something he probably would have never said in his right mind, Harry threw himself back onto the roof and lunged himself at Dudley. Dudley blundered clumsily out of the way, waving the letter in the air. "Ha ha haaaAAAHHH??!"  
  
Dudley stumbled backward, and Harry noticed that the back of his heel was on the very edge of the roof. He was about to fall off. For some reason, Harry stood as if he were in shock, as if things were happening in slow motion. His mind seemed numb, as if it wasn't able to process what was happening. A loud thud from the ground seemed to bring him back into concious thought. There was a sickening crack and a loud scream. Harry froze where he was. "Oh my God..."  
  
He still didn't move his body as he turned his eyes toward the ground, and he held his breath. Aunt Petunia rushed out the front door, and her shrill scream pierced the fog and blanket of rain created by the storm. She rushed over to Dudley, who lay screaming on the pavement. His head was bleeding, and his arm appeared to be broken.   
  
"WHATS GOING ON!!? WHAT HAPPENED!!?"  
  
Harry's heart skipped a beat. It was Uncle Vernons voice. He quickly ran out of the house to where he had heard his wife's cry, and let out a shocked yell as he saw his son lying on the ground.   
  
Petunia was shaking and sobbing uncontrollably. "His arm..." she managed to waver, "Its...its broken..."  
  
Uncle Vernon stared, shocked. "What happened...." He stared from his son to the house, to the roof, and then to...   
  
Harry suddenly realized he had been standing there on the roof top in plain view the entire time, and suddenly felt as though the bottom of his stomch had dropped out completely. "Run...run...RUN!!!" He mentally screamed at himself numbly, but his feet were not obeying his orders. He was staring straight into Uncle Vernon's eyes. For some reason he was locked there, unable to move. The few seconds seemed like an eternity. Harry had never seen him so full of hatred.  
  
Suddenly the harsh realization hit him like a ton of bricks. Oh God...he thinks I did it. He thinks I pushed Dudley off the roof, Harry's mind raced wildly, his heart beating madly, He's going to kill me... Harry swallowed thickly. "No..." He slowly began backing up, his eyes still locked on his uncle's, without realizing he had regained control of his muscles.  
  
"Petunia...take Dudley to the hospital. NOW. I will be right over."  
  
Petunia didnt ask any questions. She was so overcome with shock that she hadn't noticed Harry. She had loaded Dudley and herself into the van and were gone in a matter of seconds, and Uncle Vernon stormed in through the front door. There was a click as it locked behind him.  
  
Harry heard thumps racing through the house at breakneck speed...up the stairs...down the hallway...  
  
Harry's breathing came in short gasps, as the another set of thumps joined in. It was his heart. It was beating so hard it felt like a wild animal was trapped within his rib cage, and fighting with all its might to escape. He had to get out of here...he had to get away as soon as possible...far away...  
  
His thoughts jumbled disjointedly. He couldn't get off the roof in time, and he couldn't jump that distance. He could jump back down through the hole in his bedroom! But wait...Uncle vernon was in the house...Harry heard a loud crash of a door hitting a wall...He was in his bedroom. Without thinking, Harry's immediate reaction was to run toward the edge of the roof as fast as he could. Suddenly he was violently yanked backwards as he felt something squeeze tightly aroung his ankle, and he fell heavily onto to roof, and a split second later, he felt the abrasive shingles tearing his skin as he was dragged across the roof by his foot, toward the hole. He glanced behind him, although he already knew what it was...  
  
"You God damn little BASTARD!!" Screamed Uncle Vernon, and Harry's widened with terror as he was dragged toward the hole further. He struggled, trying to grab onto anything on the roof to try and pull himself out of Vernon's grasp, but his efforts were in vain. Vernon growled menacingly, and twisted Harry's ankle painfully, and pulled him so that half of his body hung in through the ceiling. Harry made one final futile attempt to pull himself back up, even though he had the disadvantage. He might as well be dragged into the pits of hell...he would rather endure that instead of what he knew was coming...  
  
Vernon grabbed Harry by the leg and swung him down so he hit the floor as hard as he possibly could, knocking the wind out of him, and he lay spread eagle and terrified. "Run..." his mind repeated. Without thinking, he sprung toward the hallway.  
  
"WHERE THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING!!??" Roared Vernon.  
  
Harry's vision suddenly went black as a heavy object was thrown at him, and collided with the back of his head. He landed face down on the carpet at the top of the stairs, and Uncle Vernon used the opportunity to his advantage. With his steel-tipped boot, he kicked Harry with all the strength that he could muster, sending the boy flying like a ragdoll. Harry's head slammed into the railing, and he hit the wall after falling halfway down the steps. He coughed, spitting out blood, which he didn't even have time to realize before he was enveloped in the shadow of his Uncle looming above him once more, and he was dragged violently back up the stairs by fistfuls of his hair, which Uncle Vernon certainly didn't mind ripping out. He then yanked Harry's head up by his hair, forcing him to stare down the stairs infront of him, at the huge mirror at the bottom.  
  
"Please, no..." Harry whispered faintly, his voice shaking with fear.  
  
Uncle Vernon's eyes seemed to flicker briefly with insanity underlined with a deep bloodred flame. With his other hand, he grabbed the back of Harry's shirt, lifted him up, and hurled him full force down the steps. Harry flipped in midair so that he landed painfully on the fourth to last step on his head, and bounced off, his back crashing into the mirror. He fell flat, shards of reflective glass falling all around his bleeding form. The glass had cut deep into his arms and back, but he was too dazed from the impact to notice. He slowly got up into a crawling postion, and his body exploded with pain. His scream echoed throughout the house as his body realized the amount of damage it had taken. His arms shook violently as he was unable to hold himself up any longer, and he collapsed back into a bloody heap. His dulling vision sensed the overbearing shadow around his mangled body once again. With great difficulty, he lifted his head, and stared up at the blurred form of his demon uncle.   
  
"I...m....I'm...no...t...af..raid of... you..."  
  
A cold, cruel laugh sounded from above him. His next words he ground slowly between clenched teeth, full of acrimony. "You'de...BETTER...be..."  
  
He kicked Harry in the side, shattering a rib. Amazingly, Harry did not cry out. He lay in excruciating pain, a look of admirable determination on his face. Ron's words echoed in his mind...'Don't let them see you cry...'. He wouldn't give in...  
  
This only angered Vernon further. He began kicking Harry in a rabid frenzy, bloodying his boot and bloodying a splashed crimson trail into the kitchen. Harry slid across the cold linoleum floor from the final kick. Vernon glowered at him. "Now what was that again, boy?"   
  
Harry gasped a faint breath and grit his teeth. "I'm not afraid of YOU, you GODDAMN SON OF A BITCH!" He retched out.  
  
He already knew it was the end for him. Pleading would do him no good, it would only succeed in making Vernon seem triumphant. He might as well go out with a shred of dignity...  
  
His last words had done it. He felt himself get dragged across the kitchen floor and slam into a wooden cabinet. The thin door covering it splintered in half, and Vernon proceeded to use the detatched half to beat Harry senseless.   
  
Harry felt the wood splinter into his back, mingling with the pain of the glass that was already lodged in him, as his hearing began to fade away. He stared distantly at the floor infront of him. It had gone black and white and fuzzy. The screaming and yelling above him grew distant, and suddenly it felt like he was floating. The pain was staring to go away...all feeling in general was staring to go away.  
  
There was a bizarre sound in the distance that sounded like a buzzing mixed with owl hooting. Errol was fluttering madly at the window, bashing his beak against it furiously. Harry's mind began firing off randomely, and the first thing that came to his mind was Ron, and the last letter he had gotten from him. Even though Harry couldn't feel it, he still had the letter clutched desperately in his hand. The blood running down his arm dotted the parchment sadistically. He turned his head, suprised when he saw he was still holding the letter protectively.   
  
Ron...I'm sorry...I'm so sorry...  
  
Harry looked up, dazed, to see a large shape come crashing down on his head. He didn't see the floor rush up to greet his falling form. He didn't feel much as the world grew dark, and finally, his body fell broken and limp down onto the floor as everything went black.  
  
***** 


	3. I'm Sorry

~*Midsummer's Night*~  
  
Chapter 3: I'm Sorry   
  
Author: Chibi Ron Weasley  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Memorandum: I'M SORRY! It is hell week at tech crew, and I am away from 6 in the morning to about 11 at night everyday. BE PATIENT!! ^__^ *is dead*  
Yes....I got some nice reviews from people! Thank you very much! I like to try and do realistic scenes. I just put myself in Harry's or Ron's place, and write how I would feel or what I would do. P.S...I have a sprained middle finger, so it is very hard to type and flip people off now. So if I made alot of spelling errors or something please let me know. Sorry! :( (Blasts Tales of Destiny music in background....Weeee!!!)  
  
I dont own Harry or the Weasleys, although I would love to dye my hair red and join their family!! ^___^  
***********************************************************************  
  
~I'm Sorry~  
  
"Breakfast!" Mrs.Weasley screeched up the crooked stairway, "Breakfast!!" She took out her trusty sauce pan and began beating it with her wooden spoon as if it were a gong.   
  
Ginny walked groggily into the kitchen, rubbing at her eyes. "Mmm...good morning, Mum, what did you make for--"  
  
"BACON!!" screamed Fred. He and George came barreling down the stairs, crashing into each other and walls along the way, and nearly toppled Ginny over as they rounded into the kitchen.  
  
"Wrong," said Mrs. Weasley matter of factly, "Ham and egg omelets. Honestly, can't you two contain yourselves? You act like a pair of loose cannons. I'd be suprised if Percy and Ron aren't awake by now." She glowered disapprovingly at the twins, her arms crossed, then walked back over to the table muttering something about loose cannons. Fred and George were still standing in the stairway grinning absentmindedly.  
  
"Well go on now, take your seats!" Mrs. Weasley ordered.  
  
Ginny sat in her seat politely on the other side of Mr. Weasley, who was staring with a furrowed brow at that mornings copy of The Daily Prophet.   
  
"Ung...There they go again...lax security at the Ministry... lazy workers...honestly, if it's not Rita Skeeter, then it's someone else."  
  
Fred and George came over and took their seats next to each other. "What's amatter, Dad? They're not busting on your department, are they?"  
  
Mr. Weasley let out a disgruntled sigh. "Well, no, but still...I swear those people have got it in for us... Percy is going to have a fit when he sees this." He glanced up at the occupants of the table. "Where are Ron and Percy?"  
  
"Beath meh!" George spluttered through a mouthful of eggs, accidentally spitting some in Ginny's face.  
  
Mrs. Weasley tapped her spoon annoyedly on the counter top and sighed aggitatedly. Fred turned around and grinned at her as she went stomping up the stairs mumbling about lazy redhairs children.  
  
She banged on the locked room of the door Percy was staying in for the weekend. "Percy!"  
  
Immediately, a frowning redhaired head popped out of the door, looking harassed. "Honestly mother, I'll be down in a minute. I'm working on something very important for the Ministry." The hall light glinted importantly on his horn-rimmed glasses, and he popped back into his room, shutting his door.  
  
"Oh, the nerve of that boy!" Mrs. Weasley huffed angrily, already starting toward her next destination. Ron's bedroom door was hanging half open. Mrs. Weasley bustled into his room. The bed was empty, and she spotted a mass of tangled orange bedsheets on the floor. Raising her eyebrow, she walked over, and whacked her wooden spoon smartly over it. "Ronald Weasley! Get up, you lazy thing!"  
  
She was answered with an aggrivated groan as a disheveled shape emerged from the blazing orange blob. "Wha time s'it?" he mumbled, failing to stifle a huge yawn.   
  
He scrathed his head as Mrs. Weasley told him, "It's time for breakfast. Yours is probably cold by now!" She bustled back out of the room and disappeared down the narrow stairway.   
  
Ron blinked sleepily, getting up from the tangled mass of bedsheets on the floor and stretched, staring out the window at the Errol-and-Hedwig-free sky.  
  
"Figures..." Ron scoffed to himself. He had sent Harry another letter the previous day, and Harry hadn't even bothered to send one back. Ron kicked his tangled bedsheets back onto his bed. He had been worried about about Harry. He was the one still trying to keep in contact with Harry, always checking the skies vigilantly every morning, and for what? This was a one-sided relationship, Ron thought, upset as he pulled on a shirt and headed for the door. The thought had briefly entered his mind that this may be another Dobby incedent...but Dobby was free now, it vouldn't possibly be that...  
  
Pigwidgeon was hooting gleefully, zooming in laps around his cage. Ron picked up an owl treat, threw it angrily into the cage, stormed out of his bedroom door, and crashed face first into Percy.  
  
"Watch where you're going, Ronald!" snapped Percy curtly. He took a brisk step backward and disapparated, leaving Ron stewing in the hallway, adding to his already bad mood. This was not starting out to be a very good day...  
  
Percy apparated into the kitchen with an impressive pop. "Good morning everyone, sorry I'm late," he announced loudly, "but I was working on a VERY important report for the Ministry--"  
  
"About how using cedar wands have been giving old wizards diarrhea," Fred interrupted, and Ginny and George bursted out with fits of poorly concealed giggles.  
  
Percy went pink in the ears. "For your information, it most certainly was NOT." He pompously strode over to the table and took his seat.   
  
Mr. Weasley lowered his morning paper. "Hello Percy. Where is Ron?"  
  
Percy took a sip of coffee. "Stil upstairs, crashing around the hallway, I suppose. Had no right to take his bad mood out on me though--"   
  
Loud stomps sounded from the staircase, followed by a yelp, and a procession of thuds, and Ron came tumbling down the staircase, landing flat on his face in the kitchen entrance.  
  
"Let the trumpets sound! Ronald Weasley has made his grand entrance!" Fred smirked.  
  
"Quite elegant Ron, really." George piped in.  
  
"Oh, Shut up." Ron lifted his hand and made a very rude sign indeed at George. He then lifted himself up painfully with his elbows, and he trudged over to the breakfast table and threw himself into his chair violently, causing the rest of the table to stare at him.  
  
"What?" he snapped. Everyone quickly looked away except for Mrs. Weasley. She noticed Ron was just sitting there glowering angrily at his plate.  
  
"Something wrong with your breakfast dear?"  
  
Ron blinked quickly, not even noticing he had been scowling at his plate. "No, it's fine." He scooped up a blob of it and shoveled it into his mouth. He didn't feel much like eating...he was still thinking about how Harry had been ignoring him...that jerk. Why should he be upset?  
  
"Er..." Mr. Weasley began tentatively, "Ron?"  
  
"WHAT!?" Ron accidentally shouted.  
  
"Erm...would you like the salt?"  
  
"I AM using the salt--"   
  
He stared down at his omelete where he had been furiously shaking a pile of nutmeg. He blushed bright red, put down the nutmeg, and snatched the salt from his smiling father. He began shaking the salt on top, scowling angrily out the window. 'Stupid Harry...ha, I bet he thinks this is bothering me, doesn't he!?'  
  
The Weasleys stared at Ron as he dumped the mustard, garlic powder, syrup and parmesan cheese onto the omelete, then absentmindedly began shoveling it into his mouth. ' Yeah right, I'm perfectly fine! If he doesn't want anything to do with me, then I don't want anything to do with--"  
  
"Ron dear, are you alright?" Mrs. Weasley asked suddenly as Ron was reaching for the soy sauce. Her voice had snapped him out of his reverie.  
  
"I'm...FINE," he muttered sardonically, in a tone that decieved no one.  
  
George smirked across the table. "I know whats bothering him..." He smiled coyly. "Harry hasn't written him back."  
  
Ron gagged on a bit of his omelete disaster and his face visably reddened as he spoke. "No, I really don't care that he hasn't sent me anything."  
  
"Yeah right," Fred muttered under his breath, and he and George held back a snigger.  
  
"NO, really, I don't! It doesn't bother me..." Ron said, his grip around his fork tightening so much that his knuckles whitened, "If he's going to turn into a snob like this, then he's more than welcome to leave me alone! He can go off and die for all I care--!"  
  
"RONALD WEASLEY, that is enough out of you!!"  
  
Everyone stared shocked down the table at Mrs. Weasley. She was glaring at Ron with a stern expression. "I don't know whats gotten into you but--"  
  
"Nothing! Just...leave me alone!"  
  
"See? Told you it was bothering him or he wouldn't be acting like this."  
  
"George, dont even--" Ron suddenly started choking on a humungous blob of omelete. Mr. Weasley quickly got up and whacked hum over the back with the palm of his hand.  
  
"Ung..." Ron moaned, slumping down in his seat, now sedated. The rest of the family stared at him expectantly. Slowly, he rose his vision to them, and then back down to his plate where--  
  
"UGH--!!" Ron uttered involuntarily as he caught sight of a half-eaten egg omelete covered in what looked like vomit and syrup.  
  
George grinned again. "Yeah Ron, if you had been paying attention, you would have noticed that disgusting omelete you've been chowing down on!"  
  
Ron twitched. That last comment wouldn't set off his trademark Weasley temper. He was still determind to conceal his anger. "W...what do you mean?" he began in a very non-convincing voice, "This is how I always like my eggs!"  
  
"I thought you usually like them with ketchup--"  
  
"Shut up, Dad."Ron muttered quickly and stuffed a mouthful of the ruined substance into his mouth, causing his eyes to water. "M...mmm....It's...goooood...." he managed, swallowing and straining a smile.  
  
The rest of the table laughed.   
  
"Ron dear, you're a horrible liar..."   
  
Ron sighed in frustration and pushed the plate away. Mrs. Weasley kindly gave him a plate of blueberry waffles instead. "I think if you like syrup so much, it would be much better on these."  
  
Ron blushed embarrassingly and accepted the kind offer. He sat in silence for much of the remaining breakfast eating his waffle, and as expected, the news headlines had caught Percy's eye, and he had gone on a tangent.  
  
"This is an outrage!" Percy continued, after already ranting on for fifteen minutes, "These reporters have absolutely no concrete evidence against the Ministry, and i would like to see them ever get some!"  
  
"Yes Percy, it is disgraceful that these reporters need to speak slander about the Department heads just to sell a paper when other headlines are scarce..." Mr. Weasley agreed calmly.  
  
"Well, I think it's downright disgusting how they are always poking their noses in were they are not welcomed, and twisting the details to sell a paper...Ugh!! I can't stand it!" he said sanctimoniously, "If I ever got a hold of one of those--"  
  
Percy's rant was rudely interupted by a loud squawk. Mrs. Weasley stood up from her seat. "Errol--??"  
  
Ron's head snapped up, suddenly very alert. Errol came plummeting through the open window above the kitchen sink, soaked with rain water, and managed to successfully crash land on Ron's left over omelete, then rolled off onto Ron's lap.  
  
"Er..." he mumbled, staring down at the tired old owl, who hooted feebely. He suddenly noticed Errol was clutching letter in his claws, and it was addressed to him. Ron quickly grabbed the letter and stuffed it in his pocket before anyone else saw it.  
  
Mrs. Weasley sighed and shook her head. "Who sent Errol out in this storm? Honestly...it's been raining for almost two days now, haven't you got any sense?" She glared around the table sternly, eyeing each one of the flaming haired Weasleys with suspicion. Ron sat there trying to look as innocent as possible...he had sent Errol to Harry yesterday during the thunderstorm.  
  
"Er...that would be me, I guess." Percy spoke up, alot less pompous than usual, "I had to send an owl to the Ministry early yesterday morning and Hermes was already out...but I didn't think it would take Errol a whole day to get back! It should have only taken him an hour at most..."  
  
"Well, we all know Errol isn't...isn't as young as he used to be." Mrs. Weasley replied, glancing quickly at the feeble creature on her son's lap.  
  
Ron sighed in relief. He must have sent errol back off when he had returned from Percy's trip. Fortunately, no one seemed to notice. The owl clambored off Ron's lap, and fluttered disjointedly up and perched on the sink. Ron stared down a the syrup, feathers and eggs all over his pajama pants and made a disgusted face, then remembered the letter he had hidden in his pocket.   
  
Glancing up briefly to make sure no one was looking at him, which they weren't; they had resumed their previous conversation. Ron slowly pulled the letter out of his pocket, holding it carefully just below the table. 'To Ron' was scrawled across it in Harry's handwriting. He seemed to have written it quickly; Ron noticed that his writing was alot messier than usual.   
  
Then Ron noticed something that made his heart jump. Flecks of brown-red substance were spattered across the front of the letter, and the one corner seemed completely covered in it. It was blood. His heart began to pound extremely fast and he was unable to take his wide eyes away from the stain. With numb fingers, he stuffed the letter back into his pocket. He couldn't open it here...he would panick...  
  
"Ron, are you ok?" Ginny questioned.  
  
Ron was staring downward, his face was pale, and he looked as if he'd just seen a ghost. "May I...please be excused?" He quickly pushed his chair back from the table and stood up. The puzzled expressions that were suddenly shot at him told him that he would need an explanation. "I need to...wash this stuff off my pants." With poorly feigned calmness, he ascended the staircase with an erratic rhythm in his step.  
  
"I honestly don't know what has gotten into that boy today..." Mrs. Weasley said, shaking her head.  
  
Ginny lowered her gaze to the table. 'He must really be upset about Harry..." She pulled a photo from her pocket and unfolded it. It was of the entire Gryffindor house posing for their class photo, only a square in the middle of it was missing. "He even cut Harry's picture out of his photo..."  
  
*****  
  
Out of earshot, Ron raced into his room and locked the door. The slowly, he pulled the bloodstained letter from his pocket again and this time opened it to see what was written inside.  
  
Ron gulped as he read the words.   
  
'Dear Ron,  
  
I'm Sorry--'  
  
The end of his sentance was cut off in an erratic quill scratch. Ron had begun to breath very hard, trying with all his might to stay calm. What was that supposed to mean? 'I'm sorry'...??  
  
Suddenly, he felt icy fingers clutch around his heart, and a wave of panick spread over him. Something had happened to Harry...and...  
  
'...he's more than welcome to leave me alone! He can go off and die for all I care--!!'  
  
His words echoed hollowly inside his head, and his eyes filled with bitter tears. "I didn't mean it...Oh God, I didn't mean it..." he choked. His body began to tremble and he leaned against his bed post for support, still clutching the letter in his hand in a death grip.   
  
Slowly, he slid down onto his bed, lying uncomfortably on his side, a decision forming hastily in his mind. Tonight. He would wait until everyone else was in bed, and then take the newly fixed flying Ford to Harry's. He needed to know what had happened, and if it was something bad he would do everything in his power to help. He wouldn't let anything more happen to Harry...  
  
A hot tear rolled down his cheek as he opened his eyes again, his tremultuous gaze landing firmly on the top drawer of is nightstand. Reaching over, he pulled it open, and removed a small, neatly framed photograph. It was a piece obviously cut from a larger group photo. It was of Ron and Harry, standing closely beside each other, Harry's right hand protectively enclosed in Ron's left, and they were both smiling happily.   
  
Ron hugged the picture dearly to his chest. "Harry...I'm sorry I ever doubted you... I'm so sorry Harry..."  
  
Taking another deep breath to try and keep calm, he prayed with all his might that the knot in the pit of his stomach was not reserved for Harry, and set his alarm for 12 midnight, when we would awaken to set out on his mission.  
  
~*Continued in Chapter 4*~ 


	4. Crimson in the Moonlight

~*Midsummer's Night*~  
  
Chapter 4: Crimson in the Moonlight  
  
Author: Chibi Ron Weasley  
  
Rating: R  
  
Memorandum: HELL WEEK IS OVER!!! I can now sleep again! And update!! *claps* also, I am going to go get my fingers x-rayed, because I think it is more than a sprain. So again, if there are spelling errors, I am terribly sorry. Oh yes....guess who now has 2 foot long WEASLEY RED HAIR!? *points at self* Hah hah hah....check out one of my friends journals and they will probably have pictures up. I just got back from Washington DC....oh I am tired...I'll just type this instead of doing my English homework. Its all good. BTW, did I mention this is a VERY long chapter? I'm not kidding...  
  
P.S. Lets make it simple and just say that I dont own any Hp characters. ***********************************************************************  
  
~*Crimson in the Moonlight*~  
  
Ron awoke quickly, slapping his alarm clock off so no one else would hear it. It was now midnight. He still had the picture held to his chest, and Harry's letter clutched in his hand.  
  
Slowly, he got up and placed the picture next to the other one on his night stand, then walked over to his closet. He pulled on faded jeans and a red plaid shirt, folded Harry's letter neatly into squares, and placed it in the pocket over his heart. He turned to sneak out his door, then hastily decided to bring his wand. He pocketed it carefully, his mind set and his face determind. He was ready.  
  
Noislessly, he crept down the hallway and poked his head through Percy's door. He was asleep, sprawled lazily across his bed in his clothes, drooling on top of a ministry book and snoring loudly. Ron grinned. Not quite Mr. Perfect right now, was he? Ron's head disappeared from the doorway, and traveled down the crooked stairway.  
  
He was making good progress, he had already made it to the car, and no one had either heard or noticed. Carefully, he sat in the drivers seat and closed the door with such care it made only a small click as it shut. His hands trembled with anticipation as he turned the key in the ignition. The car started with a loud sputter and roar from the engine, causing Ron to grit his teeth nervously. He immediately turned on the invisibility mechinism and sped off, afraid that if he sat in the driveway any longer that his family would wake up and see him.  
  
The car tilted and swerved, gaining altitude as it rose up into the stormy night sky. Ron fumbled clumsily with shaking hands on the wheel, turning on the windshield wipers. The rain was still coming down hard and he had to squint to see through the sheets of water gushing over the windows.  
  
The sky was suddenly illuminated by a bright crack of lightning, small gossamers spawning off of it, weaving their way through the sky. Ron gulped what felt like his heart back down his throat and tightened his hands on the wheel. He was driving a tin tuna boat through the air in the middle of a lightning storm... not the brightest idea in the world...  
  
"Blimey, I must be nutters doing this...Don't want to end up a crispy critter before I get to Harry's..." He eyed the sky warily. He knew even though he had said that, he would have gone to Harry's aid anyway. Storm or no storm, nothing would stop him, nothing would waiver his determination. He WOULD reach Harry.  
  
The storm raged on through the night as Ron soon neared his destination. As he got closer, his apprehension increased, and it was almost impossible to keep his mind from torturing him with the many terrible things that could have happened to Harry.  
  
"Please, Harry..." Ron prayed silently over and over again. He had begun to wring his hands, cold and clammy with sweat, over the steering wheel methodically, and his heart began to beat furiously against his ribcage as he spotted Harry's house in the near distance.  
  
Soon enough he was hovering right over the house; there appeared to be no cars in the driveway. Taking a deep breath, Ron descended quietly, touching down infront of the house, silently shutting off the engine. The car materialized out of thin air as Ron stepped out onto the pavement and gazed up at the darkened windows of the house. He glanced around briefly to see if anyone wa swatching before he stepped up to the door.  
  
"Alohomora," he whispered, and the door magically clicked open. Ron had gone very pale with fear as he stepped through the threshold into the dark house, terrified of what he might find. Shakily, he took a few steps forward and bumped headlong into something, letting out a small frightened squeak, then cupped his hands over his mouth.  
  
"Calm down you moron..." he whispered to himself, "It would probably be good if I could see where I was going..."  
  
He bluntly whipped out his wand and muttered a spell, causing the tip of it to light up. He pointed the beam of light upward, and saw that he had bumped into the kitchen door left ajar. He then moved his wand down to light a pathway for his feet as he decided to move down the hallway toward the staircase.  
  
There was a trail of something shining. It appeared to be broken mirror fragments. He followed these to the bottom of the staircase, where he stopped abruptly, staring transfixed at the carpet.  
  
Glass and stains littered the last few stairs, the most at the bottom. Red stains. It was blood. Ron clutched his wand tightly...he wouldn't panic...he wouldn't...  
  
As he tilted his wand upward, the beam illuminated a pathway up the stairs. There was a line of blood trailing up the stairs as if a body had been dragged up them.  
  
Summoning all of his courage, Ron followed, even though he didn't know if he wanted to see where it lead. He tread tentatively over the last step, glancing occasionally at the wall, where there were sporadic spatters of blood as if someone had crashed into it at places. Ron strained his eyes back along the beam of light across the floor. Yes, the trail led down the hall, and causing Ron to tense up, into Harry's room.  
  
"Dear God..." he muttered, his heart suddenly beating wildly. Before he realized what he was doing, his feet had begun to race toward the door without his order.  
  
"Harry...HARRY!!" For some reason, he lost all control and began beating furiously on the door with his fists, screaming desperately for his best friend.  
  
"HARRY...!!!" He pulled out his wand, shaking madly, and cast a spell as he pointed it at the lock. The door was still stuck as he tried to open it, but overcome with emotion, he tore it open in a frenzy, and stumbled into the room. The sight that met his eyes seemed to have wretched his heart in half.  
  
Harry was lying on the floor in a puddle of his own dried blood, which was also caked into his hair and dried all over his clothes. The left lense of his glasses was completely shattered, the frames bent. His back was open and raw, which must have bled quite heavily, and there were shards of glass and splinters of wood embedded there in his wounded flesh. He had undoubtedly lost conciousness.  
  
Ron dropped to his knees beside Harry, his mind numb, staring with shock. "Harry..." he whispered, straining his constricted throat. He lay a shaking hand upon his friend's disheveled hair. He felt very cold. Ron closed his eyes and tried to push his worst fear from his mind. He wasn't dead...he couldn't be...  
  
Still closing his eyes, he prayed silently to God, and lay his shaking hand against Harry's throat. He felt a pulse. Ron breathed a sigh of relief and thanked his lucky stars Harry was still alive.  
  
"U...ung..."  
  
Ron turned his gaze downward, startled by the soft moan that sounded from below him. Harry's eyes had fluttered open and he half-stared around with a dazed expression. Ron choked up as Harry's eyes landed on him.  
  
"R...Ron...?" he whispered in a distant voice.  
  
Ron smiled down gently at him. "Yeah..It's me Harry, it's ok now..." he whispered back, stroking Harry's hand that he had a hold of, "It's ok...we're getting you out of here, I'm going to get help for you..." Here his expression sharpened alittle and he whispered more menacinly to the floor rather than Harry, "Whoever did this to you is going to pay."  
  
There was a sudden noise of a door swinging open, and then shutting noisily from downstairs. Ron sat frozen on the floor next to Harry. Somebody else had come into the house. Then he remembered that his car was in the driveway, clearly visible to anyone that walked by, which meant whoever had entered the house also knew that he was there.  
  
Ron's immediate thought went back to Harry, who had slipped silently back into the blackened depths of unconciousness. He wouldn't allow anything more to happen to him. He had to protect him, and get him the hell out of here, and fast. He rose slowly from his sitting position, edged shakily towards the slightly open door, and peered out. A large shadow drifted down the hallway at the bottom of the stairs, disappearing through a doorway. Ron gulped down the huge lump in his throat and slid out the door to the top of the stairs. The front door was still slightly open. If he could just move quickly enough...if he could just levitate Harry down the steps and out into the car, everything might just be ok. Ron took a deep breath, about to step back into Harry's room when--  
  
"GAAAH!!" Ron screamed involuntarily as he collided with a large shadow that had stepped briskly out of the darkness into the doorway. Ron's eyes grew large as the shadow pointed something right at his face, and he heard a metallic click.  
  
"Who the hell are you and why are you in my house?"  
  
Ron's mouth hung open, speechless. He stared as a glint of light shone brightly on the thing that was being pointed an inch or so away from his face, and imediately recognized it as, as Harry had told him once, 'Something muggles used to kill each other.' A gun.  
  
"I-I was just..." Ron stuttered, taking a step backward, the shadow looming ominously above him, "I came to help Harry and--"  
  
"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!!" The loud voice boomed suddenly.  
  
Instinctively, Ron dove along the wall to get out of the way. There was a deafening blast that rang through the house, and Ron was suddenly too aware of a piercing sensation, and he clutched his arm in pain, slumping against the wall. He felt hot blood seep through his shirt and fingers from where the impact was taken and he groaned in pain. He hadn't been quick enough, but at least he had the instinction to dive out of the way or that would have been his head.  
  
From where he had crumpled to the floor, Ron turned his gaze upward to where the shadow had stepped out into a beam of moonlight, revealing the silhouette of a very large man, his face constricted in anger. He noticed the shirt underneath his jacket had a blood stain on the front. At first Ron figured it must have been his, from his gunshot wound. But it hadn't sprayed that far, had it? And wouldn't it have gotten on his outer jacket rather than on the inside? The gears in Ron's head began to click into place when the fact hit him that the blood wasn't recent... the color told it had been at least twelve hours...  
  
The man turned and walked toward Harry's room. He must had figured he had killed Ron, because Ron wasn't making any sound nor movement, and he was concealed in shadow. Ron realized he musn't have seen when he dived out of the way, and thought he had hit his target dead on.  
  
The man pulled open the door, growling menacingly. "Calling outsiders for help are you? I've had enough of this, you bloody brat!! I might as well just finish what I've started!"  
  
Ron's head snapped up, alert as the harsh reality of those last few words sunk home in his mind. He heard the metallic click again. This was the man that had hurt Harry before...and he was going to do it again. This time for good.  
  
A spark had suddenly seemed to ignite a fire in Ron's mind, for it could certainly be seen in the look in his eyes.  
  
'How dare he...How dare this man...'  
  
Turning a blind eye to the excruciating pain, Ron lurched up from th ground. "How dare you...YOU BASTARD!!" he screamed.  
  
Vernon let out a startled cry as his wrist was caught in a firm grasp and he was flung backwards out into the hallway, the suprised gun firing a bullet throug the ceiling. Before Vernon could stand up, Ron made a fist and bashed it into his face with all the strength he could muster. He had never been so angry in all his life, for all he could see right now was red.  
  
Uncle Vernon rolled backwards to the top of the stairs, clutching his bleeding nose in agony. He stood up quite quickly for such a fat man, and stood, facing Ron, breathing heavily. "Too bad, you little faggot, you loose!" he growled, pointing the gun at Ron with one swift movement. His fat face grew into a horrible sneer, and he pulled the trigger.  
  
All that it produced was a dull click.  
  
Vernon's face suddenly went white with horror, and he shot his gaze back up at Ron. Ron was glaring at him with an bemused expression Vernon could not read.  
  
"No, sorry...YOU loose." With a maniacal glint in his eye that would have terrified all of the U.S. Marine Corps. into submission, Ron whipped his wand out of his pocket and held it elegantly infront of him with the distinct air of animosity. Now the fire in his eyes seemed to be blazing brighter than his firey red hair.  
  
"How dare you..." he ground out menacingly through clenched teeth, "HOW DARE YOU LAY A FINGER ON MY HARRY!! YOU'LL PAY FOR WHAT YOU'VE DONE!!"  
  
Oblivious to the white hot paint that was overtaking his arm, he whipped his wand at Uncle Vernon with such vehemence, and screamed a spell at the top of his lungs in a voice that didn't even seem his own. A blast exploded from the tip of his wand with such passion that the house itself seemed to shudder in its frame. The sheer blast of energy screamed through the air with an emmense force until it met dead center with its target.  
  
Uncle Vernon's shrill scream was cutt off, the blast colliding with his stomach. He was sent sailing down the stairs and clear through the wall at an incredible speed where the mirror had hung, and then lay silent in the pile of rubble in the next room. Chunks of loose wall fell from the new gaping hole and crashed onto the floor, interrupting the eerie silence.  
  
Ron stood, astonished by what he had just done, shaking spasmodically as the rage filtered from his system and sense was restored in his brain. He didn't care that he broke the wall, or that he had probably broken hundreds of bones in Vernon's body. He didn't even care that he had just broken a critical rule about not using magic outside of Hogwarts, and with a very serious spell at that...if it meant saving Harry, he didn't care what he had to do. If he was kicked out of Hogwarts, so what...Harry was so much more important.  
  
"Harry..." Gripping his wand tightly in his good arm, he ran back through the door to his friend's side. He knealt beside him, running his hand over his tangled black hair.  
  
"We're leaving this place now. It's all going to be ok...hang on, Harry, please hang on..." He held Harry's hand soothingly, even though he knew the boy could not hear what he was saying.  
  
"Mobilicorpus" he said gently, and levitated Harry's body from the floor, making sure not to cause him further pain or injury.  
  
As he was about to pass through the door, Ron spotted a picture inside a neat little frame lying carelessly on the floor. He pcked it up gingerly, noticing it was the same picture he had on his nightstand back at the Burrow, only this one now sported a small crack that ran across the protective glass. Smiling gently, Ron replaced it on Harry's nightstand.  
  
*****  
  
The ride home was silent except for the splashing of raindrops against the windshield, and the occasional roll of thunder in the distance. Harry was in the back seat on top of a ton of soft blankets that Ron had placed there to prevent further injury. He hadn't had much trouble getting Harry into the car back at Privet Drive; he was quite easy to levitate.  
  
Every few minutes Ron would impulsively glance back at Harry's still form in the rear view mirror, then tear his eyes away, straining to keep his train of thought on steering the car and getting safely back to the Burrow.  
  
To make it easier on himself, he would pretend Harry was just asleep in the back seat to ease his restless mind. But it only worked to an extent, for whenever the clouds parted, the car was filled with a pale glow of moonlight, and whenever Ron happened to glance back then and see the cuts and bruises on Harry's pale skin, he was painfully reminded of his morbid purpose, and he tightened his grip ont he steering wheel.  
  
"You'll be fine, Harry..." Ron mumbled absentmindedly, staring out the windshield into the storm. He looked as if he hadn't blinked in hours; his eyes were bloodshot and his face was extremely pale and strained. He had taken off his tank top from underneath his plaid shirt, and tied it around his arm to slow the bleeding of his gunshot wound. The part of the shirt thatwas covering the wound was now completely soaked in crimson blood.  
  
"We'll be...just fine..." he strained again, trying to comfort himself, even though he spoke with a defined edge of panick.  
  
The Burrow was slowly blurring into view as the car steadily approached. Ron descended in altitude, his heart beginning to do gymnastics inside his ribcage. Gods...what would he do when he got there? What would he say to his family...?? He needed to tell them...just tell them to get Harry to the hospital. He didn't know the way himself...  
  
Before he knew it, the wheels of the car were touching down on the ground infront of the house. Getting out of his door, he went around to the back and got Harry, cradeling him gently in both arms. He was suprisingly light, and Ron figured his ass of an uncle must have been starving him.  
  
On legs of jelly Ron proceeded to the door, and with his free hand, banged steadily on the wooden frame, then closed his eyes, letting the cool rain splash soothingly on his feverish face...this would all soon be over...  
  
The room above him was suddenly illuminated with a feeble light. The sounds of a pair of feet descending the stairway followed shortly after. Then the shadow of a short, frumpy sort of woman slowly made it's way to the door, carrying a flickering candle that could be seen through the curtains on the door. Ron heard a faint click as the door was unlocked, and a sleepy looking woman peered out, frizzles of her red hair dripping out from under her nightcap in an untidy manner.  
  
"Who in the world is it? It's the middle of the night, for gosh sakes--" She suddenly gasped as she caught sight of her son, who was standing stark in the doorway supporting the battered form of his best friend. She quickly drew her free hand to her mouth in shock and set the candle down on a table.  
  
"Ron...my God...HARRY!!" Her face had grown white with shock as she turned quickly toward the stairs. "Arthur! Get down here! Quickly!!"  
  
Mr. Weasley came bustling down the stairs, pulling on pajama pants and socks, wearing a look somewhere between confusion and alarm. "Molly, what is it, what's going on?"  
  
His eyes drifted along the dark room and spotted three dark figures silhouetted in the doorway. "Who's there!?"  
  
"Arthur..." Mrs. Weasley's voice was quaking tremultuously and Mr. weasley immediately rushed over. He swung the door back and let the moonlight splash across the three figures. Ron glanced up at him, his features gaunt and pale from the events of the past few hours, but his bright amber eyes shone with a pleading desparation.  
  
"Dad..."  
  
Mr. Weasley pushed the door fully back, and gasped as Harry came into view, his body littered with deep lacerations, sadistically illuminated crimson in the moonlight.  
  
"Please Dad...Please help Harry..." Ron's voice waivered, barely audible.  
  
Without questioning, Mr. Weasley took Harry into his arms. "Ok. Now everyone stay calm...I'm taking Harry to get some immediate medical attention."  
  
"I want to come with you." Ron stepped forward, then winced and leaned against the table for support. Mrs. Weasley shrieked as she caught sight of his arm. She grabbed onto him protectively, steadying his shaking form.  
  
All the lights in the Burrow blinked on instantly and the air was filled with the sound of many pairs of feet scurrying around over head. An elephant stampede sounded from the stairway, and Fred and George tumbled into the kitchen, followed by a disoriented Ginny and a disheveled Percy.  
  
"What's the matter, mother?" Percy said at once. Ginny was staring transfixed infront of her. Glancing at her terrified expression, Fred and George followed her trail of vision and immediately detected why she had looked so horrified. She covered her mouth with her hands, stifling a sob as her large brown eyes welled up with tears.  
  
"Everybody," Mr. Weasley repeated sternly, trying to remain calm, "I'm dissapparating with Harry, he needs urgent medical attention." He glanced quickly at Ron, who stared back hoplessly, Mrs. Weasley clutching onto him for dear life. "Ron, you stay here and let your mother mend your arm. Hopefully I will be back very soon." He cast one last worried glance over his family before he dissapparated with a quick pop.  
  
They stood in uncomfortable silence for a few moments, the moonlight filtering a sickly green through the mesh of the curtains, highlighting the grim and tense features of their faces.  
  
Ginny suddenlt broke down into sobs and fled from the room, both hands covering her face. George rushed after to comfort her.  
  
Percy and Fred stepped warily up to where Ron and Mrs. Weasley were standing. Ron appeared to be straining to breath normally and Mrs. Weasley seemed to be shaken, although she was regaining much of her composure and sense. Gingerly, she cupped Ron's wounded arm in her hands.  
  
"Ron dear...let me remove this and fix up your arm."  
  
Ron twitched, more from nerves that from pain as his mother untied the bloody shirt and began to carefully unwrap it from his arm. He winced as his wound was exposed and open again, fresh blood welling from it. A salve was immediately applied to it, giving Ron a strange tingling sensation, and the access blood was mopped up with cotton balls. Mrs. Weasley pulled out her wand and prodded delicately at the gash.  
  
"There's something in it..."  
  
A feeble spray of pink light was emitted from the tip of the wand onto Ron's skin, and he closed his eyes and gritted his teeth as he felt the bullet being pulled from within his flesh abrasively. Even though his arm was partially numb, he could still feel an intense pain stabbing through it as the bullet was ripped from his skin.  
  
Exhaling deeply, he opened his eyes and stared at the bullet, which now hovered in mid air just above his arm, dripping with his own blood.  
  
The lines on Mrs. Weasley's face sharpened with concern as she leaned over to take a closer look, continuing the spray of pink light with her wand.  
  
"The bone is splintered also." she said, reaching toward the open mediwizard kit on the table. Out of it she pulled a medium sized purple patch of gauze and taped it carefully over her son's wound.  
  
"Now sit, Ronald."  
  
Ron obeyed and sat down on the small stool behind him. The pain seemed to be leaving his arm completely, probably from some sort of charm on the gauze. Mrs. Weasley was rooting through the mediwizard kit again.  
  
"Oh bollocks, where is it..." she muttered urgently. Percy stepped over and pulled an orange bottle out of the kit. "Is this it?" he asked, presenting it to her.  
  
She nodded approvingly, taking the bottle from him. "Thankyou, Percy. Ron, you will need to drink this and keep your arm in a sling for a while."  
  
Ron watched her pour a generous amount of thick slimy oange medicine onto a spoon, and then walk up and hold it in his face. He stared at it disgustedly.  
  
"Take it, Ron." she commanded sternly.  
  
He closed his eyes, jamming the spoon into his mouth and shuddered as he felt the bitter substance sludge its way down his throat.  
  
"There, that should repair your bone in a couple of days."  
  
Percy picked up the old bottle and replaced it inside the kit, shutting it, then helped Ron with his sling. "Mum, why didn't we just send Ron with Dad to get fixed up? I mean, that stuff's pretty old...he could've gotten fixed up alot faster..."  
  
Mrs. Weasley's ears tinged pink. "We could'nt afford it Percy. You know that..." She turned away, pretending to walk over to the other side of the room to get something, but Ron saw her wipe away a single tear that was sliding down her cheek. She was trying to keep up a tough front, trying to keep calm, even though the traumatic events of the night had affected her deeply. But she didn't want to show that to her children.  
  
Fred had turned around to face Ron. "Ron...what happened anyway?"  
  
Ron stared back at him in a saturnine manner, his eyes oddl glazed over, no emotion present in them whatsoever. He said nothing. Fred shot him a bizarre look.  
  
"It's late." Mrs. Weasley suddenly spoke up, diverting Fred's attention, "We'll talk in the morning...we all need rest," she added glancing straight at Ron, "Please just try and get some rest. I'll be up shortly." She waved the children up the stairs.  
  
George had already escorted Ginny up to her bedroom, and Percy slowly ascended the stairs folowed closely by Fred.  
  
Ron had gotten up and headed for the stairway, but when he was about at the threshold, he stopped in the doorway and looked back over his shoulder. Mrs. Weasley sat by the window, staring out of it hoplessly, then cupped her face into her hands and let out a small sigh, wiping at her eyes. Ron turned back around and made his way up the stairs quietly as to not let her know that he had briefly been watching. Contrary to her previous statement that she would be up soon, he knew she was probably planning to stay there all night.  
  
Painstakingly, Ron climbed the rest of the stairs and drug his tired and battered body down the hall into his room. Leaning with his back against his door, he shut it slowly with his body weight, the thin strip of hall light extinguishing from his floor. He now opened his eyes to the cold blue- black void of darkness, and stared intently at nothing. He slid slowly downward into a somewhat slumped sitting positionon the floor, scenes from what had happened replaying in his mind. How he had stolen the car and drove it to Harry's...getting into the house...finding the blood all over everything...then finding Harry...His uncle finding him...and...  
  
'HOW DARE YOU LAY A FINGER ON MY HARRY!!"  
  
Ron blinked, and rewound his mind. How dare you lay a finger on my Harry...MY Harry...?? He blinked again. Had he really said that? He ran a hand through his sweaty red hair, suprised at himself. He had just blurted it out without thinking. Why would he...? Ron searched the corners of his mind for a decent answer. He had realized that over the past year Harry had been on his mind constantly. With every choice in life he made, Harry was there. Could it be that..?? No, it couldn't be that, Ron assured himself quickly. Deny it...  
  
"We're best friends..." he whispered quietly to himself, "Nothing more...it's not like I...more like we have a special bond..." His words choked off dejectedly. "My best friend. MY Harry. My Harry who's in the hospital right now, because I was to incompetant to figure out that something had been wrong..."  
  
Ron leaned heavily against his door as he felt a tear roll down his cheek. Right now, he felt like he would give anything just to make sure Harry was ok.  
  
Ron threw himself down on his bed, buried his face in his arms, and cried.  
  
That night he had cried harder than he ever had in his entire life.  
  
~*Continued in Chapter 5*~ 


	5. Some Much Needed Good News

~*Midsummer's Night*~  
  
Chapter 5: Some Much Needed Good News  
  
Author: Chibi Ron Weasley  
  
Rating: PG (not much happens...^_^;;)  
  
Memorandum: The Weasley family gets the spotlight with this chapter...I am dying waiting for the CoS movie to come out on DVD. Ahhh...I believe my finger condition is worsening because my dad is too lazy to set up a doctors appointment for me. Oww...it is hard to type...  
  
*****I plan on updating and putting up Chapter 6 on 3/30/03*****  
  
P.S. Lets make it simple and just say that I dont own any Hp characters. ***********************************************************************  
  
~*Some Much Needed Good News*~  
  
That night Ron had a terrible dream. He had dreamt that he had been running down the hallway to his next defense against the dark arts class, late as usual, but when he had turned into the hallway where the door would be, it was instead a very long tunnel with no apparent end. He ran down the corridor, his steps echoing off the walls and reverberating from the ceiling, mingling at the far end of the tunnel. After what seemed like hours, a door became visible in the distance. He ran towards it desperately, but the door seemed to be growing further and further away with each step, until he was running blindly in a void with no destination.  
  
He stopped, clutching his books. "Bloody hell, what the devil is going on?"  
  
He turned, puzzled, and yelped in suprise when he saw that someone was standing behind him. "Oi, you scared me!" he gasped, feeling very foolish. He glanced up at the man, who for some reason had managed to keep only his face in shadow.  
  
Ron took a step forward. "Who...are you?"  
  
In response he chuckled sinisterly, which suprised Ron. "I'm your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher!" His chuckle grew into a deep mocking laugh as he stepped out of the darkness. Ron gasped. It was Uncle Vernon.  
  
"N-no. You can't be..."  
  
Uncle Vernon sneered, his mean little eyes searching Ron over as if he were some sort of slug. "Rubbish, we don't need your kind in this world! It's a disgrace to us hardworking normal folk, knowing the likes of you are lurking about! To hell with the lot of you!"  
  
He shoved Ron hard and he stumbled backward. His heel caught on the ledge, helping him catch his balance quickly, preventing him from toppling backward over the edge. He blinked, double taking. Edge!? He turned around and found that they were on top of a huge stone pillar which was sticking up vertically hundreds of feet above a pit of molten lava. He had been completely oblivious to the fact that the scenery had instantly changed.  
  
"I might as well just finish what I've started!" Uncle Vernon boomed madly. He pulled Harry out from behind his back and yanked him around to his front roughly by his arm. Harry jangled as he moved, for he was draped with chains and his hands were cuffed tightly together.  
  
"Harry!!"  
  
Harry tried to turn toward him, but Uncle vernon began shoving him toward the edge. "Ron...I'm sorry...!!"  
  
Ron sprinted toward him, leaping with his last step, his arm outstretched. "Harry!! NOO!!!"  
  
He grasped desperately at the air, Harry's hands slipping by his as he watched him fall helplessly into the chasm below.  
  
"HARRY--UMPF!!" Ron winced, then froze like a statue, his eyes squeezed shut. He expected to feel his flesh incinerating painfully off of his bones any second, but nothing happened. As a matter of fact, he didn't even feel warm. Slowly, he opened one eye. Then he opened the other. He had quite a nice view of the wooden boards of his floor, only they were upside down. He looked up. His ass was half hanging off his bed. His panicked expression dulling, he suddenly felt very foolish. He had fallen out of bed...again!  
  
"Bugger me, thats the fifth day in a row..." he muttered, pushing his fluffy red bangs out of his eyes and flopped the rest of the way off his bed onto the floor. His day hadn't started ouyt so well, once again. He hadn't even been able to save Harry in his dream. Even before he had awakened his day had gone bad! Well, it wasn't going to get any better by laying on the floor like an apathetic slug, so he figured he would venture downstairs, hoping to hear some much needed good news.  
  
He picked himself up gingerly off the floor. His arm was a little stiff. He figured he should go easy on that arm for today, and stepped out into the hallway. Ron crashed delightfully into Percy for the second day in a row.  
  
"Watch where you're--oh, Ron," Percy said quickly, "Sorry." He stepped backwards quietly back into his room and shut the door.  
  
Ron furrowed his brow. What odd behavior for his older brother. He had actually apologized without an argument. Ron figured either Percy must have finally removed the stick from his ass, or he must still be feeling sorry for Ron. The second choice being the more probable one, he continued down the hall and down the stairs.  
  
There was no noise. Ron listened carefully. Not even any fluke explosions from Fred and George's room? And what was up with the ghoul in the attic? Creepy, really...the Burrow had never been so somber.  
  
Ron stepped lightly into the kitchen, slipping on fuzzy pink bunny slippers to soften the creaking of his steps along the floorboards as he shuffled across to the kitchen. He came to the table and spotted Mrs. Weasley, asleep by the window, slumped over a chair, and his spirits slumped into an even lower rut. She must have waited up all night in vain, for Mr. Weasley wasn't back yet, and she appeared to not have gotten any news.  
  
Ron sighed, slouching back towards the staircase. He needed some news to clear his conscience. He couldn't think about anything else except how much he wanted to know how Harry was doing right now. Ron sighed in frustration, fighting the urge to punch the wall. Self destructive behavior suddenly seemed like a very good idea to him in this situation. Maybe slicing into his wrists with a nice crisp new blade, and watching the blood cascade down his flesh. How delightful. There was an exacto knife conviniantly resting on his dresser upstairs. He would just lock his door and...  
  
The clock chimed, and interrupted his morbid train of thought. He stared at the face, for some reason not immediately realizing what the hands were depicting. The largesr hand, the one labeled Mr. Weasley, was pointing to the word 'work'. Ron cocked his head, shooting the clock a quizzical glance. It had been on 'hospital' last night.  
  
He padded lightly around the corner back into the kitchen. He was alerted to the window by a shrill hoot. Turning, he found the source to be an elegant chocolate colored owl whom had been trying to get his attention through the closed kitchen window. Ron unlatched it at once, allowing the bird to flutter inside and perch on the sink, stretching its cramped wings. It had probably been out there a while, unable to get the sleeping Mrs. Weasley's attention. Hooting politely, it ruffled its regal feathers and dropped the letter infront of Ron.  
  
"Thank you," Ron breathed. He graciously accepted the parchment and proceeded to unfold it.  
  
"Molly, Harry and I have arrived safely at the hospital and everything has gone quite well. Harry is now in one of the rooms being treated. He is ok now, but the reports for his injuries included 2 broken ribs, a broken nose, concussion and various other internal injuries. I requested them to run a checkup to find out how he had sustained such injuries, and found the answer quite shocking. It seems Harry had been brutally abused by a family member, beaten until he was unconcious. When I heard this, I was appauled beyond belief. Poor Harry should not be subjected to such treatment, and hell will freeze over before I ever let him return back to that house. I will be leaving shortly to go over to the Ministry and see if I can arrange for Harry to stay with us for the last few remaining days of summer vacation. (We can make room, right?) I have spoken with the nurses, and they have updated me on Harry's condition. He should be almost back to normal by the end of the day, fit to leave the hospital. Of course, he will be a little sore and will probably want to rest most of the day, so we should keep that in mind."  
  
Ron could barely contain himself. Harry was ok! And he would be coming to stay with them!! The thought that within hours he could be seeing Harry again caused Ron to begin grinning uncontrollably. He pushed down the powerful urge for a whoop of joy, and held onto his composure to finish the last few sentances of the letter.  
  
"One last thing. The fact that Harry had been abused to the point that he is now in this condition is a very tentative issue. It would probably be for the better if we keep this from the rest of the children. And please send me an owl back about Ron's condition. I was extremely worried, and felt terrible that I wasn't able to bring him with me.  
  
Love, Arthur."  
  
Ron blinked and refolded the letter, feeling a little guilty for reading that last part. The note really hadn't been for him...He shook his head bluntly. Who cares! He already knew the last part anyway, so it's not like it was new to him. He would just give the letter to Mrs. Weasley and pretend he hadnt read it.  
  
A wide grin spread across his freckled face as he raced toward Mrs. Weasley. "Mum! Hey Mum!!"  
  
"Ung...what...what is it, Ronald..." she mumbled sleepily, turning over in her chair and cracking an eye open. A letter was slammed infront of her face, filling her entire range of vision with a blurred parchment tan.  
  
"Mum! You got a letter!" Ron shouted jovially, bouncing on the balls of his feet.  
  
Mrs. Weasley squinted her eyes. "Ron, hold still. I can't see anything with you waving it around like you're directing air traffic!" She caught Ron's wrist in her hand and took the parchment. Ron quickly remembered he was supposed to be acting like he had not seen the letter, and he stopped fidgeting in anticipation and adopted a static expression.  
  
Mrs. Weasley's sharp little eyes moved along the lines of writing.  
  
"What does it say?" Ron asked, no lilt present in his voice. She got to about the middle and she moved her hand up to her mouth.  
  
"Oh, the poor dear..." she whispered. Ron could tell that she was futily fighting back tears. Eventually she gave in and they came flowing freely down her face, although she made no other noise as she continued to read on. She glanced briefly up at Ron once, then her gaze flickered back to the paper. "Ron, what had happened to Harry when you found him?"  
  
"He was unconcious when I found him...I didn't really know what happened," he said, staring at the floor. This wasn't a complete lie. He really hadn't known what had happened when he had first found Harry.  
  
Mrs. Weasley glanced at him again suspiciously, then back at the letter. Her face relaxed with a little relief. "Oh thank goodness he's alright now."  
  
Ron continued to stare expectantly as his mother finished the letter. Mrs. Weasley smiled warmly as she folded it again and stuck it protectively in her pocket. "Ron," she began kindly, "How would you like it if your father arranged for Harry to stay with us for the last two days of your summer vacation?"  
  
"Really!?" Ron beamed, his reaction just as genuine as if he were hearing the news for the first time.  
  
Mrs. Weasley nodded in approval. "Yes, it seems if eveything goes as planned, your father will be bringing him home tonight."  
  
Ron made some sort of half-dancing gesture of joy and hugged his mother. "Wicked!!"  
  
She patted his head and chuckled. "Well you'de better get along then and clean that pigpen that you call your room! We're going to have to move a spare bed in there for Harry."  
  
It was the best offer Ron could have asked for at the moment. Startling his mother, he kissed her on the cheek and bolted up the stairway.  
  
"Oh my..." she chuckled, watching him disappear inot the upstairs. She took out a piece of parchment and a quill to write a response to her husband.  
  
"Arthur, It would be wonderful if Harry could stay here! Goodness knows he's always welcome. Please send me an owl ASAP when everything is decided."  
  
She put her pen to her mouth for a moment in pensive thought before reapplying it to the parchment.  
  
"About the issue with Harry's abuse, I also agree that we keep quiet about it around the kids. I had asked Ron if he knew what happened when he found Harry, and as expected, he denied it. Obviously he knew something in the first place to take the car to Harry's, then come back with a strange wound in his arm ( I wasn't sure what is was exactly, it looked like a little metal ball. But he is fine now, I fixed him up ok.) and when I ask him about it he avoids the question. We will talk more later, and when you get home, you might want to have a chat with Ron about Harry's situation. Love you, and please come home soon, Mol--"  
  
She was startled by a loud thump overhead, and she turned her attention toward the ceiling. Percy's muffled yells could be heard soon after, and then Ron. Mrs. Weasley sighed, finished signing her letter, sent it out with Hermes, then proceeded upstairs to see what the problem was.  
  
"But Percy!" Ron continued, pulling the bed toward the door, "I...NEED...this bed for Harry!"  
  
"Has the trauma caused you to go MAD, Ron!?" Percy yelled, lying on the floor with a steadfast hold on the other side of the bed, "Harry is in the hospital!!"  
  
"Yeah, I know!" Ron said with a note of glee in his voice that made Percy stare in shock.  
  
"You're sick!"  
  
"No, Harry's com'in over tonight!"  
  
Mad, you're stark raving mad!" Percy turned towards Mrs. Weasley who was standing in the doorway. "Mum, do something! Ron's gone off his rocker. He came in and dumped me off my bed while I was sleeping, and then started dragging it out the door raving about some nonsense!" he shouted defiantly, pointing an accusing finger at his grinning brother.  
  
"Oh, he makes perfect sense to me, "Mrs. Weasley smiled. Percy stared at her, dumbstruck.  
  
"You're all mad!"  
  
"No, Harry's going to be fine by the end of the day, and he will be staying with us for the remainder of the summer," she beamed. She turned towards Ron. "Dear, we have another spare bed we can use. You can leave this one with Percy."  
  
"Hah, there," Percy snorted, scowling up at Ron. Ron grinned, shrugged, then dropped the bed onto Percy's fingers and squashed them. Percy shouted a few things that made Mrs. Weasley say "PERCY!!" and Ron saluted him and hopped jovially out the door.  
  
Mrs. Weasley pushed the bed back into the corner of the room. "There you go, Percy! Good as new!" and she jogged out of the room after Ron.  
  
Percy climbed onto his bed, and smoothed down his hair which was now standing on end. "Like I can REALLY get back to sleep after THAT, "he grumbled scathinly.  
  
Out in the hallway, all the other Weasley children were now gathered, obviously awoken by the 'Percy's spare bed' ordeal.  
  
"Wha's goin on..." Fred mumbled sleepily.  
  
"Yeah, what's up," George followed.  
  
Mrs. Weasley smiled. "Harry's ok, and he's coming to stay with us until the start of the Hogwarts year."  
  
"No kiddin?" George stared.  
  
"No, I'm not kidding, and that's why Ron and I are going to go get the other spare bed." she replied.  
  
Fred and George smiled at each other, high fiving while Ginny swelled with happiness. They all pushed the door open to Ron's room.  
  
Mrs. Weasley's eyes narrowed in disapproval. "Ronald, it looks like there was a nuclear explosion in here. Clean up in here first or I doubt Harry will even want to stay here! How will we be able to fit another bed in here with all this clutter on the floor! How do you find things in this mess?"  
  
Ron grinned sheepishly. "Well, you see, my clothes are over there on top of Pig's cage, or in that corner mixed in with the comic books and old dinner plates, and--"  
  
A bedraggled cat mewl sounded from the far side of the room under a pile in the corner, causing everyone to stare in that direction.  
  
Ginny furrowed her brow. "I didn't know we had a cat...?"  
  
Ron shrugged. "Neither did I. Maybe I had better clean up..." he finished, sliding back into his room under Mrs. Weasley's glare.  
  
Hermes fluttered through an open window, landing lightly on Mrs. Weasley's arm. She removed the letter from his leg and he nipped her finger affectionately. "Thank you, Hermes. Oh good, your father has sent us back a reply."  
  
Ron glanced over his shoulder at her as she read the letter quickly and beamed at him. "Good news Ron. Your father will be arriving here with Harry this evening."  
  
Ginny's face flushed pink and she smiled broadly. "I'de say this calls for celebration."  
  
"Yes, I'm going to make us all a big dinner, and we are all going to eat out in the garden tonight," Mrs. Weasley said.  
  
"I'll help you!" Ginny said, clapping her hands together. She and Mrs. Weasley took off towards the kitchen.  
  
Ron turned back towards his room, somewhat ready for the arduous task of cleaning the mess. He truely hoped there really wasn't a cat in there someplace. Standing with his hands on his hips, he surveyed the floor...if there really still was a floor under all that stuff..  
  
"Alrighty then...now where should I start?" *****  
  
~*Continued in Chapter 7*~  
  
***I will be updating, putting up chapter 7 on 3/30/03. Hope you all come back to read it!  
  
And don't forget to review!! ^____^ It's what keeps me going! I love you all!  
  
~Chibi Ron 


	6. Family is Great

~*Midsummer's Night*~  
  
Chapter 6: Family is Great  
  
Author: Chibi Ron Weasley  
  
Rating: PG-13 for some cursing and gay stuff.  
  
Memorandum: Hmmm, do we see any hints of slash yet? Hmmm...yes, just hints, but it will get better. The Weasley family gets the spotlight with this chapter yet again, so you can look forward to plenty of Fred and George. Oh gods....12 days until Chamber of Secrets comes out.....83 days till Order of the Phoenix...urm, anyway, I have finished my term paper ( ooh a whole 9 pages of pure crapola...) and am able to write fanfiction again! *clap* Anyway, urr.. Harry finally shows up in this chapter, Dobby, and my fang earringed hottie *drool*, and of course I have to stick in the random hot guy too, whom will play a part later on....so there is a new random hot guy in here also. Enjoy!  
  
*****I plan on updating and putting up Chapter 7 on 4/6/03*****  
  
P.S. Lets make it simple and just say that I dont own any Hp characters. ***********************************************************************  
  
~*Family is Great*~  
  
By about 5 O'Clock in the afternoon, Fred and George had to put away their plans for a toilet seat that emitted flatulant noises when you sat on it, and agreed to drag the spare bed to Ron's room. Fred, on the headboard side, kicked the door open. Ron was hanging over his bed, snoring loudly, a dust brush dangling loosely from his limp hand.  
  
The twins faces cracked into identical evil grins. They carted the bed in and dropped it on the now cleaned floor next to Ron's.  
  
"Hey there, old chap!" George piped cheerily, and kicked Ron in the bum. He toppled over the bed and landed face first in the dust pan.  
  
"'Atta boy, Ron! Look how excited he is about dusting, diving face first into his task! Bravo!"  
  
Ron lifted his head and caughed out a dust bunny, and mumbled something in what seemed to be an indistinguishable language.  
  
Fred and George walked out the door. "You think he's good on his own now?"  
  
Fred turned his head and looked back into the room. Ron had stood up, rubbing his head ruefully. He then glanced at the clock that read '5:10'.  
  
"Shit!" He turned, starting to sprint, and crashed disoriented into the wall.  
  
"Yeah, he'll be fine," George muttered. The twins turned and walked off to the kitchen, where the delicious aromas of dinner met their noses.  
  
Mrs. Weasley and Ginny were working dilligently at the stove. Ginny was fervently carting the rack of spices between the counter and Mrs. Weasley.  
  
"Mmm..." George's mouth started watering. He reached for a baked potato and his hand was whacked smartly with a wooden spoon. "OOWW!! Aw, come on, Ginny!" he bellowed, tenderly holding his throbbing hand.  
  
"No George, not yet! Not until Harry arrives."  
  
The doorbell rang. Ginny accidentally dropped the spice rack she was holding onto the floor and Mrs. Weasley threw her hands up into the air. "Goodness me, that must be them! And I'm not even nearly finished yet!"  
  
They all bustled up behind the front door. Mrs. Weasley took hold of the door knob. "Ok, now I want everyone to give him a warm Weasley welcome!" Fred and George rolled their eyes at this. "One... Two... Three!" The door swung open and the four Weasleys grinned broadly.  
  
"WELCOME HARR--"  
  
Bill was standing in the doorway grinning. He cocked an eyebrow at them. They all stared back at him, disappointed looks on their faces.  
  
Bill frowned. "Well, nice to see you, too!"  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry Bill dear..." Mrs. Weasley pulled her oldest son into a hug. It looked very comical because of the large differance in their heights.  
  
Bill grinned again. "I heard Harry was coming to stay here 'till they go back to Hogwarts."  
  
They all nodded at him. "Come in then!" Mrs. Weasley said fervently, "You can help with dinner!" She pulled him in through the door.  
  
"Whoa! Hey! Wait a minute..." Bill started, "I brought someone along to stay here with me." Mrs. Weasley shot him a questioning glance. He smiled and turned around in the door. "Thomas. Hey Tom, come in." He took a hold of another man behind him and gently pulled him into the house.  
  
He looked around at the Weasleys, blushing slightly and waved sheepishly. He was very very handsome, about in his early twenties, and had a wonderful complexion. He had wavy chestnut hair that was pulled back in a ponytail, showing that he had one ear with various piercings going the whole way up the auricle. He had a thick hemp necklace with a brilliant purple bead in the center which, they all noticed, matched the beautiful violet eyes he had. "Urm...Hullo..." he said shyly.  
  
"Thomas is my...urr...room mate," Bill said, clapping his friend on the shoulder, "Will you be able to make room for us also tonight?"  
  
"Hmm...We're already using the spare bed for Harry, and Percy is staying in the spare room for a while. You'de have to spend the night in there with him." Mrs. Weasley glanced at the twins. "We could borrow one of their beds...Fred, George, would you mind if one of you had to use a sleeping bag tonight, or if you both had to sleep in the same bed?"  
  
Fred and George grinned at each other. "We don't care."  
  
"Alright, it's settled then! My, do we have a full house this week. And Thomas, it's very nice to meet you," she said kindly, taking a hold of Thomas's hand cheerily. He blushed and nodded.  
  
Bill grinned and clapped him on the shoulder again. "So, what say we help Mum with dinner?"  
  
*****  
  
"Whew! Damn, that was alot of work!" Ron wiped his brow and flopped down across his bed. His room was now spotless, and he was dog tired. Even so, he smiled. It was all worth it. He really wanted it to look good for Harry. Ron couldn't wait for him to arrive.  
  
The clock chimed seven times. Pigwidgeon began zooming in circles around his cage as if it were a cue to start a race to see how many times he could make it around.  
  
"Oh, shut up, PIg!" Ron mumbled, tossing a sheet over his cage. That subsided the hooting just enough to allow Ron to pick up the sound of a car engine outside. He ran to the window and peered out. A beat up Ministry car pulled up infront of the house, and three people could be seen through the windows. There was Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic who was easily recognizable by his lime green bowler hat, Mr. Weasley seated next to him, and the other person in the back must be...  
  
Ron flung himself down the hallway and down the stairs with the speed and subtly of a runaway train, but for some reason he couldn't bring himself to leap out the door and run to Harry like he normally would. He was overcome with a very strange feeling, and got very nervous. So he did the only other thing he could think of. He lept out the door and hid in a bush.  
  
Mrs. Weasley came bustling out the door, still wearing her kitchen apron. She kissed arthur on both cheeks and hugged him when he stepped out of the car. Fudge followed, his stout form stepping out and re-arranging his pinstriped cloak. He also shook Mrs. Weasley's hand, and they conversed briefly, but Ron was too far away to hear what they were saying. He watched quietly as Fudge walked around and opened the back door of the car, and took hold of it's occupant's hand, helping him out onto his feet.  
  
Ron felt his heart suddenly leap into his throat. There was Harry. He was wearing a bottle green T shirt and khaki shorts. He looked good as new, only Ron noticed he didn't have his glasses on, but that allowed the sun to reflect upon how brilliant his beautiful green eyes really were. Mrs. Weasley suddenly rushed up to him, kissing him on both cheeks also. The suprised look on his face made Ron grin. Bill, Fred and George all came over and merrily shook his hand, chatting cheerily, and they all began walking back toward the door.  
  
Ron stared at him as he walked. When he had seen him the night before, he hadn't noticed how nicely his sixteen year old body had matured since last year. He looked very in shape, probably from quidditch practice.  
  
Ron suddenly slapped himself up the side of the head. His best friend was back from the hospital to visit, and Ron was staring at his body. He glanced back up, looking again at Harry. He stood with one hand on his hip, and now had a puzzled expression on his face. He seemed to be searching the yard for something. They were all but two feet from the bush when Ron distinctly heard Harry ask, "Where's Ron?"  
  
"I'm here!" he blurted, suddenly springing out of the bush. They all stared at him.  
  
"Bloody wanker, what are you doing in the bush?" Bill joked, whacking him on the back hard, so that Ron coughed. He straightened up to face his best friend, and suddenly felt as though a colony of butterflies had migrated into the pit of his stomach.  
  
"Hi, Ron!"  
  
He felt a blush creep into his face as he stared back at Harry, and the feeling of the butterflies intensified tenfold.  
  
Bill sniggered quietly as he walked off, glancing back over his shoulder at Ron, who was just standing there like an idiot, staring at Harry with a very stupid look on his face.  
  
"Gee, don't I even get a 'Hello, Harry'?"  
  
Ron snapped out of his stupor, suddenly feeling very foolish. "Urm..sorry. Hi, Harry!" He could feel the heat radiating off his face like a freckled furnace. 'What's going on with me!? Why am I blushing?'  
  
Fred and George had wandered over, finding the opportunity open for mischief. "Aw, give your buddy a hug!"  
  
Ron suddenly felt himself and Harry slam into each other, and his face grew so hot that he could have sworn it had caught fire. "Urm...um...excuse me!!" he stuttered. He broke away from Harry and ran into the house, leaving his friend standing awkwardly in the yard with a slight pink tinge on his cheeks.  
  
George snorted. "Did you see his face?"  
  
"Priceless!" Fred cackled.  
  
Harry stared after the door, cocking his head slightly. "What's...up with him?"  
  
Meanwhile, Ron dunked his face into a bucket of cold water. This was crazy. Why was he acting so stupid? Why all of a sudden was it just so hard for him to face Harry? He cast his gaze out the window onto his best friend. They had been best friends for six years now, the inseperable duo of Hogwarts. They told ech other everything, helped eachother with everything, and they each knew they could count on the other for anything. So why WAS there a reason to be so nervous around him?  
  
'There ISNT,' Ron thought stubbornly to himself, "He's HARRY. My best friend." He grinned out the window at him again. Chivalrous, honest, and loyal. That was Harry.  
  
Settled with his composure, Ron shook himself briskly and jogged out the door, flinging his arms around Harry again.  
  
Harry choked slightly in suprise, and then returned the embrace. "Hello there again!" he laughed, "What in the world is up with you?"  
  
Ron shook his head and grinned. "Nothin. Don't worry about it. Do you want me to help you bring your stuff in?"  
  
Harry blushed slightly and opened his mouth to speak, but was saved by Fred and George.  
  
"He hasn't got it with him right now, but WE'RE going to go pick it up later tonight!" They grinned, giving them a double thumbs up.  
  
Harry shrugged. "Yeah, that's about it. Thanks guys!" He waved at them as they disappeared into the house. "If I'm going back to Hogwarts in two days I'm going to need all my stuff. I left it back at--" Harry suddenly faltered, looking at the ground. Ron felt a strong urge to comfort him, and was glad when Mrs. Weasley called them in to set up for dinner, breaking the tension in the air.  
  
"Fred! George! Stop it!!" Mrs. Weasley barked at the twins, who had been bashing ketchup and mustard packets with hammers and squirting the contents at eachother, "Stop acting like little savages and make yourselves useful by taking the table cloth outside!"  
  
"Righto!" Fred grinned. They both abandoned their mess and grabbed the table cloth, skipping gayly outside with it flowing behind their backs like a cape.  
  
Bill and Thomas levitated the two beat up tables that the family used for outside dinners out onto the lawn.  
  
"I bet on Bill's table!!"  
  
Thomas turned around and stared at the speaker, which was Fred.  
  
"Yeah, me too. Bill is table champion," George followed up. Tom turned a puzzled glance to his room mate.  
  
Bill just shrugged. "Oh well! I guess since it's a special occasion, for old time's sake..." There was a loud bang and Bill's table went crashing into Tom's in the air.  
  
"Bill, what on Earth are you doing?"  
  
"Table battles," Bill replyed calmly, "I'll try and knock yours out of the air, and vice versa."  
  
Harry and Ron had walked into the yard just in time to duck a table that went sailing over their heads. Fred and George were cheering and jumping up and down on the sidelines as the tables collided again.  
  
"William Weasley!!"  
  
Bill turned quickly, loosing his concentration on his table, and it was crashed out of the air by Tom's and it landed at Mrs. Weasley's feet. She was standing in the doorway with her arms crossed, rolling pin in hand, and a displeased look on her face. Bill and Tom grinned sheepishly back at her as Fred and George jumped around congratulating Tom on his victory. Bill floated the tables into their upright positions and the table cloth sprang on top of them instantly.  
  
Fred was grinning at Tom. "Hey, I believe we haven't been formally introduced yet!"  
  
Tom stared back at Fred and then to his exact carbon copy beside him, George.  
  
"I'm Gred and this is my robot slave double Forge."  
  
George slapped Fred in the face. "Oh no no, you seem to be forgetting that you're the one who is the robot slave, Gred."  
  
Tom now looked very worried and confused.  
  
"Never listen to anything they say," came Bill's voice. He cracked the twins' heads together and they both complained loudly. "These are my brothers, Fred and George. They're twins," he added, glaring at them.  
  
"Yeah, I noticed..."  
  
Bill then turned towards Ron and Harry. "This is Ron. He's my brother too." Ron nodded and shook hands with Tom, "And this is his friend Harry Potter." Harry replied with a polite hello and shook hands with Tom.  
  
"Very nice to meet you, Harry!" he smiled. Harry was extremely impressed that Tom had not gawked at his scar first, and had treated Harry with respect.  
  
"So!" George piped in, "What are you to my brother?"  
  
"Uh..." Tom opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. All he was able to accomplish was gaining a very nice pink tinge to his cheeks.  
  
Bill grinned, clasping him warmly on the shoulder. "If you'll excuse us, me and Thomas have some...ur...urgent business to attend to. Be back in a few! Cheerio!" He grabbed Tom's hand and the violet eyed boy glanced back and grinned shyly before he started off towards an arbitrary corner of the yard with Bill. Ron shot Harry a strange look and Harry just shrugged.  
  
Mrs. Weasley stumbled across the yard with a stack of pots that was way too tall for her, and she nearly toppled over more than once. "Urmpf! I could use a little help here, somebody!"  
  
Harry jogged over to her, steadying the tower of pots. "I'll help."  
  
"Oh Harry dear, you really don't have to..."  
  
Harry helped her set down a massive pot of beef stew onto the table. Ron began to walk over to help also, but was distracted by someone behind him.  
  
"Psst! Ron!" Mr. Weasley motioned for Ron to come over to the side of the house.  
  
Slanting a bizarre gaze at his father, Ron walked away from the table and to the side of the house. "What, Dad?"  
  
Mr. Weasley put his hand on his son's shoulder. "Just wanted to talk to you for a bit. I wanted to ask you Ron, did you know what happened to Harry?"  
  
Mr. Weasley could tell Ron was uncomfortable with the question by the way he was looking at the ground. He looked back up at his father. "I..."  
  
Mr. Weasley was staring at him as though he could see right through him, a fatherly glint in his eyes.  
  
"...Yes." Ron said.  
  
Mr. Weasley nodded, but he did not look disapproving or mad. "I thought so. Now Ron, your mother and I have agreed not to bring up anything about Harry being abused around the rest of the family."  
  
Ron nodded.  
  
Mr. Weasley glanced up at Harry, who was smiling and helping Mrs. Weasley with the table. "I know Harry looks fine on the outside now, but he is probably still very hurt on the inside. If he ever needs someone for emotional support, don't be afraid to offer it." Mr. Weasley smiled at his son. Ron just blushed and nodded. "Oh, what am I lecturing you for, you're both sixteen, I'm sure you can handle things just fine without me rambling on about them...now go on and help Harry and your mother."  
  
Ron smiled at his father and then turned, starting back towards the table. Harry was carrying a huge bowl of steak and kidney pudding.  
  
"Would you like some help with that?" Ron laughed as Harry stumbled over a garden gnome, almost sending the pudding bowl sailing through the air.  
  
"Maybe a little."  
  
The two carried the bowl to the table when they heard something very peculiar from the far corner of the yard. It sounded sort of like a continuous scream, and it seemed to be growing louder as it raced towards them.  
  
"What the bloody hell?"  
  
"It can't be...can it?...What the...Dobby!?"  
  
The house elf came bolting up the yard wearing a bright pink T shirt and yellow overalls, and slammed into Harry's legs, hugging onto them for dear life. "Oh Harry Potter sir! Dobby is so glad that Harry Potter is ok!!" he wailed. Harry looked a bit embarrassed but Dobby continued to ramble on. "Oh sir, Dobby had heard terrible things had happened to Harry Potter! Dobby had heard that his family--"  
  
"Heeere, why don't you try some of this pudding and tell us if it's any good!" Ron shoved a blob of pudding into Dobby's open mouth. His eyes bulged out of his head even more if physically possible and his face began turning blue. Harry whacked him on the back to help get the blob down his throat.  
  
Dobby wheezed and then said in a very weak voice, "That was very good, Wheezy sir."  
  
Ron snorted, pointing to himself. "Wheezy...?"  
  
"It's what he calls you," Harry clarified, and turned back to Dobby. "Dobby, what are you all worked up about?"  
  
Dobby hugged onto Harry's legs again, and Harry tried to shake him off. "Oh sir, Dobby heard Harry Potter was here, and Dobby wanted to make sure he was ok!" Dobby turned and stared back into the yard, then turned back towards Harry and continued. "Dobby was running across the yard, and was about to turn around the house when...the bush...it scared Dobby!"  
  
"The...bush--?" Harry said, dumbfounded.  
  
"Yes, yes sir, the bush! Dobby is hearing it make noises!"  
  
Ron stared at Dobby. "Are you sure?"  
  
Dobby nodded fervently and grabbed both of their hands. "This way, Harry, Harry's Wheezt! Dobby will show you!" Ron felt very stupid being dragged across the lawn by a house elf. Dobby rounded the corner of the house with them, and then stood, peering at a bush some ten feet away. "It's this one, sirs..."  
  
Harry and Ron crept up to the side of the bush. Ron picked up a stick and jammed it inside.  
  
"OW!!!"  
  
They both jumped backwards, startled when they heard the yell come out of the bush, and Thomas came tumbling out, landing on his rump in the grass. His hair was now unbraided and messy, and his shirt was unbuttoned. Bill was practically on top of him, both hands underneath the other boy's shirt up the back. As soon as they saw Harry and Ron gawking at them, they broke away from each other and sat apart on the grass.  
  
Dobby sighed in relief. "Silly Dobby, ie was only Gringotts Wheezy and..." he eyed Thomas up and down, "A very beautiful girl!" Thomas looked very offended at this. Bill held back a snigger. Thomas opened his mouth to speak an abashed response to that last comment, but Dobby suddenly smacked himself up the side of the head. "How could Dobby be so stupid! Dobby is sorry, Mr. Gringotts Wheezy, Dobby saw Mr. Wheezy kissing his girlfriend before! Dobby should not have bothered them now."  
  
Bill and Tom both stared openmouthed at Dobby. Harry and Ron glanced at each other and then back at the pair on the ground. Tom suddenly yelped in suprise as Dobby ran his elvish hands over his bare chest. "You is a weird one, you is. Where are those weird bumpy things on most Misses chests? Have you lost them?"  
  
Harry and Ron burst into laughter at this.  
  
"Stop that!" Bill scolded, whcking Dobby off of Tom. Flushing bright pink, Bill and Thomas stood up and faced Ron, who had been trying to hide his obvious grin behind his hand.  
  
"Don't...you...say...A WORD," Bill whispered slowly, then glanced down at Dobby and added "You either."  
  
*****  
  
"Finished." Ginny set a large and beautiful candle was lit with a differant colored flame which flickered brilliantly against the oncoming darkness of night. She stepped back, her hands on her hips, smiling as she admired her handiwork. In short, the dinner table looked magnificent, topped with all sorts of delicious foods from spotted dick to to mincemeat pie. The air around the table was full of the friendly glow of fireflies. They floated lazily about, shining their ethereal light, making the ground look like a mirrored version of the sky; it's deep blue dotted with the brilliance of many little stars.  
  
Mrs. Weasley called everyone to the table. Ron took his seat next to Harry, and Dobby sat across from them, and soon everyone took their seat, and had begun passing the bowls of food around the table.  
  
Harry ladled a generous amout of beef stew into his bowl, then took five of the buttered rolls. He felt a bit guilty of making a pig of himself, but he hadn't eaten good food like this since the last feast of his previous Hogwarts year. He had been lucky to get one meal a day at the Dursley's. They were so reluctant to give Harry so much as a bread crust that they acted as if they were parting with an arm or leg rather than a small piece of food. Harry's stomach rumbled at the mere sight of this night's dinner.  
  
"Want some chicken, Harry?" asked Ron, pigging out on a chicken leg.  
  
"Yeah," Harry muffled eagerly through a mouthful of steak. He grateful took six off the plate.  
  
"Wheezy, you have very good food here!" Dobby said cheerily. He drank his soup noisily, spilling the broth down his bright pink Tshirt.  
  
Ginny glanced down the table at Harry, Ron, Dobby, and her other brothers all pigging out like savages and rolled her eyes.  
  
George picked up on this. Grinning evilly, he placed a pea on his fork, bent it back, and let it fly. The pea hit Ginny between the eyes.  
  
"HEY!!" she squealed.  
  
"Don't throw peas at your sister!" Mrs. Weasley snapped. Seconds later a big fat pea splatted itself right in the middle of Fred's forehead. "George!! Don't throw peas at your brother!"  
  
"He's not my brother, he's my robot slave double."  
  
"Oh, shut up with that, " Bill said, flinging a chicken bone at George's head.  
  
"Bill!!" Mrs. Weasley screeched.  
  
Harry snorted, keeping his hand over his uth to prevent himself from laughing. Ron grinned sheepishly. He was a little embarrassed, to say the least, about his family, but Harry seemed to be enjoying himself.  
  
"Thomas, woud you please pass the steak and kidney pudding?" Mr. Weasley asked politely.  
  
"Certainly." Tom floated the bowl over to Mr. Weasley.  
  
"Thank you!" Mr. Weasley began spooning generous helpings of it onto his plate. "Say Tom, so what areou to my son anyway? Co Worker?"  
  
Fred and George began drawing little rainbow shapes with their forks in their mashed potatoes, stopping when Bill shot them the Weasley Glare of Death. "Ahem. We're room mates." Bill said, admonishing Ron and Harry with an ever so slightly insane grin. They looked in opposite directions, craftily stuffing their faces with food so they wouldn't say anything to receive a pounding from Bill. "We met at Gringotts, when he was called over to get rid of a boggart in one of the vaults."  
  
"Oi! Pass the mulled wine, Bill!" the twins called across the table. Bill passed the jug to them after pouring himself a generous glass. He drank with an annoyed look on his face as he felt someone tug on his ponytail. He slanted his gaze at his mother.  
  
"Bill...Oh what's that look for?" she muttered innocently.  
  
Bill glared back at her. "I know what you're about to go on about. You've been trying to get me to cut my hair for five years now."  
  
"But Bill, it's too long! It makes you look like one of those...those awful punk wizards! If you would just let me cut it..."  
  
"No, Mum."  
  
"But--"  
  
"NO, Mum."  
  
"Ohhh..." Mrs. Weasley huffed, then glared disapprovingly at his spiked collar and fang earring.  
  
Tom grinned and sipped his tea politely, ducking the occasional pudding blob being lobbed from the twin's corner of the table. A half- eaten chicken leg accidentally came flying over and landed in Mrs. Weasley's lap.  
  
"Oohhhh...." she growled, flustered, "I slave in the kitchen all day, and this is what I get! Can't our family ever have a normal dinner?"  
  
Bill sipped his wine. "Thomas, would you?"  
  
Tom set his tea cup down politely on the saucer. "Of course." he smiled calmly. He lifted his wand, and within seconds, clear boxes appeared around the twins, enclosing them in their own spaces. Fred glanced up helplessly as a cream pie that had already been set in motion in the air splatted in his face.  
  
Harry couldn't contain himself anymore. He burst out laughing, almost choking on his treacle tart.  
  
"That was bloody brilliant!" Ron laughed. Tom shrugged shyly. "Can you do more stuff like that?"  
  
Bill smiled. "You'll see later this year."  
  
"Wha?" Ron questioned.  
  
"You'll find out in a couple days." Tom replied, smiling. He went back to calmly sipping his tea, and Harry and Ron shrugged.  
  
Fred and George had found a way to merge their confinements together, and proceeded to drink half the jug of mulled wine between them. Percy noticed this when Fred broke into very loud, off-key, annoying song.  
  
"I think you've had enough," he snapped, grabbing the jug from them.  
  
"Nooooo....." George whined, slouching drunkly onto his dinner plate. By the end of dinner, the twins were so covered in food that they had to excuse themselves, staggering back up to the Burrow. Percy shook his head in disapproval.  
  
"Urm...sorry about my family," Ron whispered to Harry. Harry only smiled broadly back at him.  
  
"Ron, your family is great." Ron went slightly pink in the ears.  
  
Ginny had announced that she was going to go back up to the house and go to bed when she had accidentally started falling asleep and had knocked her glass off the table. About the time when everyone had eaten their fill, and Percy began bickering about people badmouthing the Ministry again, that Ron had suggested that he and Harry move away from the table for a while. Harry agreed.  
  
They both walked into the middle of the yard, and lay side by side on a secluded patch of grass, well enough away from Percy's ranting, and gazed up at the stars together.  
  
*****  
  
~*Continued in Chapter 7*~  
  
*****I plan on putting up Chapter 7 on 4/6/03  
  
I hope you all come back to read it, because the slashyness will arrive soon, and so will the sixth year at Hogwarts!! And PLEASE REVIEW!! I will love you forever if you do!! ^___^!!  
  
Lastly, I am looking for a fic buddy, you know, someone who will read my work and review, and tell me if I have any errors, and I will do the same for them! So if you're interested, please say so in a review ( I check them alot!) or email me!!  
  
Thankyou ever so much! You all rule.  
  
~Chibi Ron 


End file.
